


Bonfire Heart

by madamebomb



Series: The Smoke Demons Series [2]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Sokkla
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-02
Updated: 2017-10-13
Packaged: 2018-06-06 00:52:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 40
Words: 142,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6730987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madamebomb/pseuds/madamebomb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An unstable and damaged Azula teams up with a reluctant Sokka to go undercover in the Fire Nation, all in a bid to save Zuko’s life. As Sokka loses himself in his new murderous identity, he finds himself drawn to Azula in a way neither of them could have anticipated. Prequel & (eventual) Sequel to Addicted to Love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

Fire. Everywhere she turned, there was fire. Burning. Insatiable. It ate the ground, the trees igniting with a sickening whoosh and pop. She could feel her eyelashes singeing, her skin tightening from the heat as it roared around her like a living thing.

There was blood steaming on the ground at her feet. She looked down at the burning body there, at the green eye staring sightlessly up at her. It boiled and burst as the wind of the fire picked up her hair, twisting it around her face.

As if in a dream, she turned away from the body. She could hear screaming. There was pain and panic in the voice as it rose above the ravenous sound of the inferno.

There were people on fire, rolling, trying to put it out. Numb, consumed by the flames, she watched them dispassionately as they fell one by one. She felt nothing. Not fear or pity.

She was hollow inside; a void in which nothing could survive. There was only the fire.

Then, like a knife slash across the throat, the shrill sound of something crying in shocked pain rang throughout the blazing clearing. It rattled her in its incongruousness. Where had she heard that sound before?

“HELP! HELP ME, PLEASE! PLEASE, MY _SON!_ ”

The desperate scream broke through the mindless burning numbness like a punch in the gut. Her knees weakened, her swollen right eye squeezing tightly shut as comprehension dawned on her. It was a baby, screaming in pain. Screaming for his mother as the flames came ever closer…

She breathed out, tasting ashes and her own bile.

This wasn’t a dream. This was _real._

It was really happening.

She turned toward the cheerfully-painted wagon, its yellow and green paint blistering as fire engulfed it. A woman, her dress on fire, threw herself at the covered wagon’s burning door, ramming her shoulder into it. The wood gave and she clamored up into it, even as smoke and fire came roiling out.

“No…don’t…” she whispered, a single tear steaming as it rolled down her bruised and bloodied cheek. “I’m so sorry…”

The shrill screams cut off with a tiny choked cough, followed by an animal-like bellow of pain and horror, so deep and so devastating that it dropped her to her knees where she stood. The next moment, the wagon’s roof caved in, sending sparks and a massive gout of orange and red fire licking at the pitch-black sky.

The fire roared around her but didn’t touch her. Soon nothing moved except the flames. The stench of burned flesh choked the air, black and white ash raining down like snow.

“What have I done?” Azula whispered in horror, staring at her soot-covered hands, at the blood streaking her palms. “My fault. It’s my fault… My fault…”

There was no one there to listen, and no one there to care.

And still, the fire burned on.

* * *

 

**MARCH:**

_A Year and a Half Later_

“No!” Azula exclaimed, sitting up with a gasp. She stared into the darkened room, sweat pouring down her face and making her threadbare nightdress cling to her skin. Disoriented, she stared around the small, dank-smelling room, trying to make sense of the world again, but she was lost in the dream, in the heat and misery.

Eventually, she took a deep breath and forced herself to relax her shoulders. Her shaking hands lifted, smoothing her dark hair back from her clammy face. She felt sick to her stomach, but pushed the urge to vomit back with a dry swallow. She buried her face in her palm, heaving out ragged breaths that tasted of ash.

“My fault,” she muttered as the room spun around her. Eventually the dream faded to a dark whimper in the back of her mind, where it festered. She was used to pushing it back by now, though other memories shook her to her core.

_Hands. Holding her down. A blow to the head. Dirt in her bloody mouth. Laughter. Pain. And worst of all, a feeling of helplessness as she sank into unconsciousness…_

“NO!” she snarled, throwing off the thin blankets and lurching to her feet. Unsteady, she grasped the wall to keep herself upright. She took another deep breath and glanced at the window. Dawn was breaking, the light gray and thin. The ragged edges of winter frosted the grimy glass, promising a bitter day, with winds that would howl through the skeletal trees, and snake insidiously into her inadequate clothing, numbing her to the bone.

She grabbed her dirt-grimed pack, stuffed beneath the foot of the bed, and dumped her meager belongings out on the bed. A bag of coins, a brush, two sets of clothing and underclothes, a green silk robe with a scorch mark on the hem, a toothbrush, gloves, a small knife, three bruised apples, and a folded square of linen. She took up the knife, and the linen, sitting down on the floor near the window.

She turned her forearm upward, eyeing the neat row of scars shine in the dim light. A few were scabbed over and half-healed. One was fresh and tender. She prodded it, mouth pressed to a thin line.

She took up the knife, pressing its thin blade to the skin just below the freshest cut. She closed her eyes for a moment, remembering the dream, the screams. She felt the tip of the knife puncture the skin and bit down on her lip. Slowly, she pulled the knife across her skin, opening it with a shallow scrape. Blood welled up, but she immediately pressed the cloth against it, gasping as the pain radiated throughout her body.

It was a balm on her nerves, something physical to keep her in the here and now. The taste of ashes faded from her tongue as blood soaked the cloth. She flexed her hand, rocking back and forth on the hard wooden floor, lower lip trembling.

She finally pulled the bloodied cloth back and ignited a fire an inch from her index finger. She dragged the fire across the cut, letting out a little exclamation of pain as the wound was cauterized and cleansed.

“My fault… My fault…” she said, rocking, letting the pain spiral through her, ground her, hold her. She would cling to it all day, pressing her thumbs into the cut to keep it fresh. She needed it.

She _deserved it._

Shaking, Azula rinsed the cloth in the little washstand in the corner, ringing out the pink water and then dumping it out the window. Then she pulled on her clothes, stuffing everything back into her pack. Her hand lingered on the small bag of coins she’d earned on her last job guarding a caravan of spice traders. There wasn’t much left. If she didn’t find another job soon, she’d be sleeping in the forest again, stealing from farms and villages.

Azula shoved the coins back into her pack and slung it over her shoulder. Then she opened the door to her cramped little room, one of three above an inn on the road to Omashu.

The innkeeper was already tending the fire when she walked down the stairs. The smell of eggs, porridge and tea filled the air, making her stomach growl. She wanted to get on the road as soon as possible, but decided that breakfast was probably a good idea; who knew when she’d get her next meal?

“What can I do for you?” the innkeeper, a slight, balding man with a wide belly asked her warily. He reminded her forcibly of her Uncle Iroh, which did nothing to endear the man to her. Guilt suffused her as she turned her topaz eyes on him, staring wordlessly as the room shifted around her. She heard whispering behind her, but ignored it, as she always did when she heard it. “Would you…uh…like some breakfast, miss?”

Azula found her tongue with difficulty. “Yes.”

He smiled tightlipped at her and walked over to the massive black kettle of porridge. He ladled out a large bowl, tossed a handful of berries onto it, then drizzled dark maple syrup over the whole mess. He set the bowl in front of her, along with a wooden spoon.

“The eggs’ll be just a moment, miss. Can I get you some tea?”

“Yes…. Please,” she said with difficulty, digging into the porridge. It was warm and sweet and she savored each bite of the plain fare. The gnawing emptiness in her stomach, which never seemed to go away these days, appreciated the warm mess. She bent over the bowl as he set a cup of steaming black tea in front of her, and then went back to the stove. She listened to him cooking, closing her eyes with each bite.

The front door of the inn opened, letting in a swirl of bitterly cold air and two figures dressed in long cloaks, the hoods up over their faces. Azula glanced at them, stiffening at the sudden intrusion.

“I’ll be with you in just a moment!” the innkeeper called cheerfully, probably glad to have company other than her to deal with. Azula took another bite and watched them out the corner of her eye, one hand on her pack and the precious collection of coins there.

One of the figures leaned in to the other and whispered something, then gestured toward the table where Azula was sitting. She took a drink of her tea, her heart pounding now. Slowly, the hooded strangers approached her, just as the innkeeper set a plate of eggs and a hunk of buttered bread in front of her.

Azula looked up at him as he smiled at her.

“How much?” she mumbled.

“No charge. You look half-starved, sweetheart,” he said, reaching out and touching her shoulder.

Her jaw tightened and she lifted her chin, glaring at him. She knocked his hand away with a swift swipe of her arm. “Touch me again and you’ll lose your fucking hand. And don’t call me sweetheart.”

He blinked at her and backed up a step. “Of course not, sorry. I didn’t mean… Sorry!”

“You’ll have to forgive her. Azula’s never been very good with people,” a husky, drawling voice said behind her. It was like ice water down her back.

Azula dropped her spoon, whirling around in her chair, her hand lifting as fire bloomed from her fist. She swung at the cloaked figure behind her, but the woman danced easily out of the way, blocking the volley of fire she shot at her with a gloved hand.

She launched herself out of the chair as the woman slipped two wicked, curved red daggers out of her sleeve and threw them in Azula’s direction. She immediately tucked into a roll and tumbled across the floor, feeling the daggers slice through the hair inches from her shoulders. She flipped onto her hands, shooting off fire from the bottoms of her feet with a concussive blast that set a tapestry on fire and sent both hooded intruders scrambling to get out of the way.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” the innkeeper exclaimed frantically.

“Stay out of this, old man!” Azula shot at him.

“I came here to talk, Azula!” Mai said, grasping her hood and shoving it down. Her teeth were clenched, her eyes narrowed as she glared at her. The years hadn’t changed her much. Her shiny black hair was shorter, tucked into a bun at the back of her head. She seemed thinner and taller now, with a certain harshness to the set of her mouth that had once been caused by boredom, but seemed now to be steeped in stress.

“I have nothing to say to you!” Azula hissed from her crouch on the floor. She eyed the three stilettoes in Mai’s gloved hand. “Awful lot of weaponry from someone who wants to talk.”

“Well, you know how it is with old friends.”

“We’re not friends.”

“We were once,” Mai said tightly and then glanced at her companion. “You’re a hard woman to track down.”

“Good. I like it that way,” she snarled. “Now leave me alone!”

“Oh for fuck’s sakes,” Mai’s companion said with an exasperated sigh, pushing off of the doorframe and getting in between them. “Enough with the standoff. Nyla didn’t drag our asses a thousand miles across the Earth Kingdom for a fucking firefight.”

“June, I can handle this,” Mai snapped.

“Yeah, you look like you’re handling it just fine,” June said, her lips twisting as she turned back to Azula, pulling a bamboo shooter out of her pocket. “Look, Princess Nutso, I’ve got a shirshu-spit dart in this thing. Either you put up the fire and listen to what the lady has to say while you finish your breakfast, or I shoot you with it and you listen to what the lady has to say while you drool on the floor. The choice is yours.”

“Try it, bitch,” Azula snarled, lifting her fist, preparing to send a volley of fire at the bounty hunter. The next moment, she felt a prick of pain in her leg and looked stupidly down at the dart in her thigh. “ _Fuck_.”

Her limbs went numb as the flames died. All of the tension ran out of her body as the shirshu poison shot through her like lightning. She collapsed onto her face, suddenly unable to move. June rolled her over onto her back and stood over her with a smug grin on her red lips.

“Word to the wise, don’t ever call me bitch. _Sweetheart_ ,” June said, waving the shooter at her. Then she looked at Mai with a quirked eyebrow. “She’s all yours.”

“Thanks, June,” Mai groused, stowing her weapons back into her sleeves. She crouched down next to Azula and pulled the dart out of her leg, tossing it aside as she surveyed her grimly. “You always have to do things the hard way, don’t you, Azula?”

“Fuck you.”

“ _And_ you’ve gotten a mouth on you. What _have_ these peasants taught you?” Mai said, grasping her by the collar of her shirt and hauling her bonelessly into a sitting position. “I just came to talk. I think you need to hear what I have to say, so listen up.”

“I don’t know what’s going on here, or who you people are, but I can’t have you attacking my customers and setting the place on fire! You need to leave!” the innkeeper declared, rushing past them and ripping the burning tapestry off of the wall. He stomped on it a few times to put the flames out.

“June?”

June sighed again and tossed a bag of gold at the man’s feet. He picked it up and looked inside with wide eyes, whistling through his teeth as he lifted a coin to the light.  Then he straightened, tucking the bag into his sleeve.  “You have an hour.”

He exited the room with haste, leaving the three of them alone. Together Mai and June hauled her up into a chair and set her firmly in it. Her head lolled on her shoulders as she struggled to move her limbs, but they were unresponsive. She was trapped.

Narrowing her eyes, she watched as June grabbed her abandoned plate of eggs and started eating as if she hadn’t a care in the world.

“You’re probably wondering what I’m doing here,” Mai said, watching her as she crossed her arms across her chest and sat back in her chair. “And I’ll be frank, it wasn’t _my_ idea.”

“Did Zuzu send you?” she said through her thick tongue. Mai’s lips tightened to a thin line. “Is there a bounty on me?”

“No, he didn’t. He doesn’t know I’m here. In fact, he and I broke up a while ago.”

“My condolences,” Azula snorted, trying to wiggle her toes, but it didn’t feel like they were even attached at the moment. “So what do you want?”

Mai glanced at June, who was tearing large hunks of the bread off with her teeth, looking utterly unconcerned with the conversation. Mai turned back to her with sober eyes. “I was sent to recruit you by an organization called the Smoke Demons. They’re basically an underground terrorist cell, with spies, assassins and agents in the Earth Kingdom and the Fire Nation. They recruited me a year ago and I’ve risen through the ranks as a spy. Their ultimate goal is to take down the Harmony Restoration Movement, cripple the Fire Nation, depose Zuko and build a new nation from the ashes.”

“You joined a terrorist cell dedicated to taking out your ex-boyfriend?” she slurred. “Fuck, how bad was your breakup?”

“I _know_ , right? Then again, I’m not surprised. Scarface always was a real charmer,” June commiserated, slurping Azula’s tea. Mai made an aggravated sound and glared at the two of them.

“Anyway, I started off doing low-level stuff. Spying, information gathering. They’re attempting to take over the army and I know for a fact that there is at least one spy in the Royal Palace right now and probably more than that, though I don’t know who they are. The Smoke Demons are secretive, even within their own organization. There seem to be layers upon layers of connections, each one leading to a higher tier within the organization. No one ever has the whole story when it comes to information; they give it out piece-meal. I get all of my orders from three people, who get _their_ orders from other people, who get it from other people, and on and on up the chain. I haven’t ascertained who’s in charge yet.”

There was a gleam in her eye, an edge that denoted determination. Azula’s eyes narrowed, the corners of her lips just managing a curl before falling slack again.

“They sent me here to recruit you, Azula. I personally advised against it.”

“Why’s that?”

“I told them that you were unstable, untrustworthy, self-centered, evil and that you didn’t take orders well. They insisted that you were necessary to their plans though. Personally, I think they want to use you to get close to Zuko.”

“I’m not close to Zuko. I haven’t seen him in years.”

“But you _are_ his only sister. If you came back into his life, he’d welcome you.”

“He’d never trust me.”

“Not if he’s smart, he won’t,” Mai said snidely. “But Zuko has this stupid thing he does. He wants to believe in the goodness of people. I blame Aang for that. If you came back into his life, he’d allow it. And you could kill him when his guard was down. Just like you’ve always wanted.”

“And why would I want to kill him?”

“Because you’re still the princess of the Fire Nation. He’s unmarried and childless—“

“No thanks to you.”

Mai’s fist tightened on the tabletop. “Zuko has no heirs. If he’s dead, the crown is yours. He’s never disinherited you or banished you from the Fire Nation. Legally, you’re still his successor.”

Azula stared at her old friend. “I don’t want the throne.”

Mai’s eyebrows lifted into her thick black fringe. “That’s a different tune than the one you used to sing.”

“I just want to be left alone, Mai. I’m doing fine on my own.”

Mai glanced around the shabby little inn, and then eyed her threadbare clothing with a knowing expression. “Yes, I can see that. Doing guard jobs for trader’s caravans is definitely the life you had planned for yourself. Not to mention the incidents which seem to follow you wherever you go?”

“Don’t—“

“Like that fight in Shinlin Village? Or what happened in Bakchang? Or that fire in the Forest of Wei?”

“SHUT UP!” Azula screamed, her paralyzed body breaking into a hard sweat. She could feel panic rising up through her, blinding, choking. She wanted to sink away, to disappear. She could feel the heat of the flames creeping up on her. The screams of the mother and her baby echoed in her ears, reverberating through her soul.

“Face it, Azula. You’re nothing but trouble, a sad, crazy woman with nowhere to go and nothing to look forward to. If you killed yourself tomorrow no one would care,” Mai said softly as Azula swallowed back the rage inside of her, feeling Mai’s words echoing through her body, smashing through her rage with a bleak, blunt force trauma.

Her thoughts ran in devastated little circles, the whispers in her head growing louder and louder until she could barely hear Mai over their shouting. She just wanted it to stop. She wanted something to grasp. She could no longer feel the pain in her arm from her cuts. She wanted it. Needed it…

“The Smoke Demons can give you a mission, Azula, a _purpose_. They’ll take care of you. Feed you, clothe you, and put you on the throne. All you have to do is kill your brother.”

“And why do _you_ want Zuko dead?”

“Because he doesn’t deserve to be on the throne. He’s an _usurper._ The Fire Nation needs strong leadership, not a puppet government installed by the Avatar,” Mai said automatically, the words coming out of her as if she’d memorized them. It was clearly the Smoke Demons party line.

Azula blinked, swallowing back the saliva that was collecting in her slackened mouth. Her gaze narrowed on Mai. She noted the tense way the woman was holding her shoulders, the sweat on her temples, the hardness of her eyes.

Mai was nervous. _Scared,_ in fact. And she was _lying_.

“Answer me one question,” she asked slowly. “Why did Zuko break up with you?”

“What makes you think _he_ broke up with _me?_ ” she snapped in reply.

“Why else would you be so pissed off at him that you want him dead?”

Mai’s pale face flushed a little and she looked away. “ _I_ broke up with _him._ ”

“Why?”

“That’s personal _and_ irrelevant.”

“Answer the question, Mai.”

Mai was quiet for a moment and then her eyes flicked back to Azula. “We fought all of the time, okay?”

“Actually, what you said was, ‘I loved him, but I couldn’t stand to be around him anymore because I felt suffocated.’ She also thinks he’s fucking his bodyguard now,” June said pointedly. “Are we almost finished? I want to get on the road before those rainclouds get here.”

“Yes, thank you, June,” Mai said, her lip curling. Azula stared at her, waiting. “Why do you want to know?”

“Why are you terrified that I’ll say yes and join the Smoke Demons?” Azula asked, shifting in the seat. She was starting to get some feeling back in her fingertips, but the rest of her was still dead weight.

“I’m not—“

“You _are._ I can see it. You’re here because you have to be, but you’ve done your best to attack and insult me, hoping that I’ll be so angry I’ll refuse out of some stubborn, wounded pride. You know me all too well, Mai. You know how I tick.”

Mai barked a humorless laugh and slung her arm over the back of her seat, leaning to the side. Azula didn’t miss the way she was fingering her red-bladed sai. “I _used_ to know you, Azula. But that was before you lost your mind. There’s something broken about you. I can see it in your eyes. It’s even worse than before, when Zuko put you in that institution. You think _I’m_ scared? _No._ I look at you, and I’ve never seen anyone more terrified in my life. What _happened_ to you?”

Azula inhaled sharply and glanced at June, but the woman was busy cleaning her nails, looking bored at the conversation. Her eyes flicked back to Mai.

“I’m _not_ going to kill Zuko.”

“Why not?” Mai insisted, leaning toward Azula, fist clenched.

 _Yes, why not?_ A voice in her head asked, but she shoved it down. She didn’t know how to answer that question, really. There had been a time in her life when she’d wanted that, because her father had wanted that. She remembered that last Agni Kai, when she’d felt everything slipping out of her grasp. When she’d wanted nothing more than to watch the world burn, and Zuko with it. At least in the flames, things had made sense. The black and white, clearly defined parameters were easy to understand. But things were confusing now. The hatred she’d felt for her brother was a faded thing, a discarded childhood plaything that moldered in the corners of her confused and fractured mind, mixed in with guilt and anger at herself…her mother…her father…

She had been gone for years now, adrift, working her way through a world that feared her. And well it should. She was dangerous, unstable…all of the things Mai had said. And more. So much more that no one could ever know… The daily nightmare of her life was unspeakable.

“I don’t need a reason. I just won’t. I _won’t_ betray him, so go fuck yourself, Mai.”

Mai tilted her head, eyeing her with a gleam of approval in her gaze. Slowly a smile curved her lips. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

“You’re a double agent, aren’t you?” Azula said, already knowing the answer.

Mai nodded and studied her face for a long moment. “The Smoke Demons think I’m loyal to them, but I’ve been working to take them down since they recruited me. They recruited June too, but I paid her off to change sides.”

“What can I say? I go where the money is,” June said with a smirk.

“And you wanted to recruit me to help you too?”

“Hell no. I told you, it was the suggestion of someone high up. I think its part of their plan, although I’m not sure what that is yet, exactly. I thought you’d jump at the chance to kill Zuko and I was afraid you’d accept the offer and make things even more complicated. Still am, to be honest.”

“Does Zuko know you’re working for these people?”

“No. I can’t risk telling him in case the spy in the palace finds out.”

“I want to help.”

Mai’s eyebrow lifted in surprise. “Why?”

She hesitated and then said the first thing that came to mind. “Boredom, mostly.”

Mai shook her head, as if not believing her. “Can I trust you, Azula?”

Azula smiled and moved her hand a little bit. The paralysis was starting to wear off finally. She shrugged as much as she was able. “I guess we’ll find out.”


	2. One

_**SEPTEMBER -** _ _Six Months Later_

Sokka rolled over, staring at the uneven surface of the plaster wall, Suki’s taste clinging to his lips. He felt her hand on his back, resting gently there as if to soothe him.

He didn’t feel soothed.

He didn’t feel much of anything, really. It had been three months since he’d last seen her, since they’d made love. There had been nights when he’d missed her so much he’d thought he’d go crazy for wanting her, when his bed had felt too damned empty to sleep in. On those nights, he’d sought a bottle and fallen asleep at his desk or his couch. He missed her. He loved her.

She’d been back in Republic City for nearly three days though,  _three days_ , and this was the first night they’d been together. He should have been ecstatic, should have stripped her naked the moment they’d gotten away from Zuko and all the pomp a visit from the Fire Lord brought.

But that hadn’t been what had happened.

Every kiss was…different. Every caress, every look she gave him seemed distant, weighted down by something…and if he were honest, the reticence was coming from both of them.

Not for the first time, he felt that something was standing between them, something unspoken, unacknowledged, something with a hint of regret about it.  He had a feeling he knew what that something was, and it soured his good mood like a stab in the back.

“So that was…” Suki started, her hand hot on his back as he glared at the wall.

“Yeah.”

“I think we’re both just tired and stressed,” she said lightly. “It’s been a busy couple of days. I know I’ve been in meeting after meeting with Zuko. He’s been exhausted. I’m worried about him.”

A sour taste flooded into his mouth as he tightened his jaw, staring daggers at the plaster. If he’d been a Combustion Firebender, he would have involuntarily blown the whole damned wall apart.

_Zuko._

It always came back to Zuko with her. There had been a time when he’d thought the way Suki looked out for Zuko was sweet, just another wonderful aspect of her caring personality, and a natural off-shoot of her job as his chief bodyguard, and as his friend. However, over the years, he’d started to suspect that Suki had a crush on Zuko.

He hadn’t thought much of it at first. Suki had always been in love with _him_ , after all. Despite the fact that she lived in the Fire Nation, and that he split his time between the Republic and the Southern Water Tribe, going months in between seeing each other, their relationship had been strong, full of love and passion. He hadn’t felt threatened by a harmless little crush, not when it was his arms Suki was sleeping in. Not when Zuko hadn’t seemed like he reciprocated those feelings. Not when Zuko and Mai were together.

Things had started to change over the past year or so, though, and he couldn’t help but notice that it had started, more or less, when Mai had broken up with Zuko.

And then there were the rumors.

To be sure, there were always rumors floating around about Zuko, about Aang and Katara, about Toph. Even about Sokka. Being friends with the Avatar and the Fire Lord, and the famous inventor of Metalbending put one in the crosshairs of the public. Ludicrous stories followed all of them wherever they went. Most of them were outright lies, and others only held the barest grain of truth, blown all out of proportion.

But…somehow, the rumors about Zuko sleeping with his chief bodyguard had struck him somewhere deep in his heart. A part of him knew that it wasn’t true, that neither Suki nor Zuko would do something like that to him…but there was a nasty, bitter part of him that did believe it. Maybe not that they were sleeping together, but that  _something_  was going on.

He’d noticed something between the two of them, a closeness that hadn’t been there before. The smiles and the way they touched each other, the way Zuko had kissed her hand before they’d left. It had seemed gentlemanly, but the blush in Suki’s cheeks had made Sokka see red. He’d even seen the way Zuko had watched him and Suki when they’d left together earlier tonight. The look on his face had been…tortured. 

“You can’t seem to get Zuko off of your mind,” he said out loud, and there was no hiding the bitterness in his voice. “I’m surprised he even let you off of your leash tonight.”

Suki’s hand slid away from his back and he felt her sit up on the bed behind him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” he mumbled, closing his eyes. “We should get some sleep. I have a meeting with the builders over at Air Temple Island, and you’ve got a big day of standing around watching Zuko’s every move.”

Suki made an insulted little noise; half-sigh, half-growl of aggravation. “It’s my  _job_ to watch his every move.”

“Yeah, doesn’t mean you have to be up his ass every damned minute too. I hope he doesn’t charge rent.” He pitched his voice higher, imitating her. “’Oh, Zuko! Can I get you anything? Do you need me to work later? What can I do for you? I want to  _please_  you, Zuko!’”

“ _Excuse_  me? What in the fuck are you implying, Sokka!?”

He sat up and rolled over to face her. She was sitting against the headboard, arms crossed, holding the sheets over her naked breasts. Her face was livid with anger and confusion.

_She doesn’t even get it._

“I don’t know what I’m implying. I just feel like you didn’t even want to be here tonight,” he said, pushing his legs off of the bed. He sat on the end and hunched over, rubbing his eyes. Exhaustion crawled over him, and not just from their lovemaking. He’d had a long day.

“We haven’t seen each other for three months. Trust me, I wanted nothing more than to be with you tonight. Why would you think I wouldn’t?” she said, her voice full of hurt.

“Because Zuko might need you.”

“Zuko has Ty Lee to guard him tonight. He…he doesn’t need me. Zuko knows that we haven’t seen each other for a while. He feels bad about how long it’s been, actually.”

“Not bad enough to give you time off to come for a visit.”

Suki’s eyes narrowed. “It’s not like  _you_  took time off to come visit  _me._ ”

“Well, I’ve been really busy. I’ve got about ten projects on my plate right now.”

“And I’ve been busy too.”

“No,  _Zuko’s_  been busy,” he said uncharitably.

“When  _he’s_  busy,  _I’m_  busy. That’s how my job works.”

“Yeah, but anyone could do your job, you don’t have to be up his ass all of the time.”

He regretted the words as soon as they left him. Suki’s face shut down, her jaw clenching as she tightened her lips. Her blue eyes blazed in an instant.

“Is that what you think? That my work is…nothing? Unimportant? _Easy?_ ”

“I didn’t mean…” he started, but she’d already thrown the sheet off and was climbing out of his bed. “Suki…”

“You know, I don’t know what your problem is, but you can shove it up your ass, Sokka. I didn’t come here to be insulted. I didn’t come here to accused of…of…I don’t even  _know_  what!” she shot at him, grabbing her discarded dress and yanking it on.

Regret filled him as he grabbed the sheet and wrapped it around his waist. He shot to his feet and crossed the room to her. “Don’t…don’t go! I’m sorry!”

“Damned right you’re sorry!” Suki said, whirling on him and jabbing him in the shoulder. “My job may not be important to you, but it is to me! If you don’t respect that, then you don’t respect me! And if you don’t respect me, then you can just go fuck  _yourself_  next time I’m in town!”

“I’m sorry!” he exclaimed, running a hand through his hair. “I’m just… I shouldn’t have said that. I don’t know what my problem is.”

“That makes two of us,” Suki said, glaring at him. “I came here to be with you, Sokka. I  _want_  to be with you… Not anyone else.”

Sokka met her gaze, trying to find the truth in her words. Even though she hadn’t said Zuko’s name, his spirit seemed to hover in the air between them, invisible, his influence like a spreading, seeping stain. Bitterness filled him. He wanted to believe her, he wanted to believe that there was nothing going on between his girlfriend and one of his best friends. He wanted to believe that Zuko wouldn’t do that. Most of all, he wanted things to be how they used to be.

He felt like he was losing her.

“I want to be with you too,” he said, reaching out a hand and cupping her cheek.

“Then stop being a jerk,” she said, putting her hand on his and tilting her head into his palm. A little smile softened the anger on her face and he felt his own anxiety ease.

_I’m being stupid. Maybe I’ve been making it all up. Maybe there’s nothing going on. Maybe I just believed those rumors when I should have known better…_

“I love you and I miss you,” he said softly and was rewarded with a full smile from her.

“I miss you too,” she said, putting her arms around his neck. She drew herself up against him as his arms wrapped around her waist. “So stop trying to push me away. I’m leaving in the morning…”

“Seems I’m wasting time then…” he said, feeling desire uncoil in his groin. He nuzzled her nose, inhaling her scent. He kissed her softly, as if to make up for earlier. Not just the fight, but the awkward lovemaking as well.

Suki’s lips slid along his, soft and ripe. He lifted her off of her feet, her powerful, feminine body like a licking flame, igniting him. She groaned in the back of her throat, wrapping her legs around his waist. He turned them toward the bed as the sheet slipped off of his hips and fell to the floor, tangling on his feet.

He stumbled forward, and they landed on the bed with a bounce. She laughed as she broke the kiss, her fingers burying in his loose hair. “Whoops…”

“Idiot,” she said, brushing his hair back. She kissed the tip of his nose and he felt warmth spread down his spine. He pulled back, staring into her eyes.

“Suki…you’re the only woman I’ll ever love…” he said seriously. Suki went still beneath him. A flash of…something…went across her face, so fleeting that he almost thought he’d imagined it. She bit down on her lower lip for a second, swallowing.

“And you’re… Sokka, you’re…” she stammered and then lifted up, slamming a rough kiss to his lips. He tried to pull back, uneasiness flaring through him, but she held him tightly to her. Her hand reached between them, encircling him.

“Suki…”

“Shut up and fuck me, Sokka,” she said against his lips.

A groan left him, guttural and filled with desperation. Rucking her dress up around her hips as she slid her thighs around his waist, he, pinned her there beneath him. Suki bucked her hips upward and he entered her with a shared groan of pleasure.

Their bodies moved together, fingers clenching, clutching. He took her hard and fast, trying, in some way to keep her there with him. But no matter how his fingers dug into her, no matter how hard he kissed her, he felt like she was a million miles away from him.  The look in her eyes wasn’t passionate; it was  _determined._

Afterwards, she rolled over onto her side, breathing hard, hugging her arms around her middle. Sokka lay on his back, sweat drenching him as the silence between them turned into an echo of all of the things they weren’t saying.

Sokka stared at the ceiling, noticing how Suki made sure she wasn’t touching him. He reached out a hand to touch her shoulder, but drew back at the last moment. He closed his eyes, the ache in his chest radiating throughout his body.

_She’s right here…I’m still losing her._

* * *

“We should all get together soon,” Aang was saying as he embraced Zuko in a warm, back-thumping hug. Sokka watched from the sidelines as Zuko pulled back with a large smile on his face.

“Of course! I know how busy you are building the Temple,” he said, gesturing to the island and the various buildings under construction with one hand, “but even  _you_  have to take a break sometime, Aang.”

“Katara and I would love to have you come stay when the Temple is completely finished. It’s been too long since we all took a vacation together.”

“Vacation? What’s that?” Zuko scoffed as Aang laughed. He turned to Katara and drew her into a warm hug. “Take care of him, will you? I think your husband works too hard.”

“He does, and I try my best to slow him down, but you know how he is,” Katara said, cupping Zuko’s face and kissing his cheek. “But tell me who’s taking care of  _you_ , Zuko?”

Sokka didn’t miss the way Zuko’s gaze furtively skirted toward Suki, who was standing a few feet away, talking to Toph. Ty Lee was pacing the courtyard where Zuko’s airship was moored, one hand on her fan, the winds coming in off of the sea lifting her long brown braid off of her shoulder.

“I don’t need anyone to take care of me, Katara,” Zuko said, shifting in place, looking embarrassed. Katara lifted one eyebrow at him. “No matter what my Council says.”

“Still after you to get married?” Aang asked with a laugh.

“It’s their favorite topic. They’re probably going to auction me off if I don’t get married soon,” Zuko said, but the worry in his voice was only half-serious.

“Poor Zuko…” Katara said, patting his arm and walking toward the women. She leaned into Suki and the women embraced. “Make sure he doesn’t get devoured by the women of the Fire Nation, would you?”

“Are you kidding? Making sure Zuko’s fangirls don’t rip his clothes off on a daily basis is half of my job description,” Suki said, cutting her gaze toward Zuko, whose lips parted as if he might say something.

“And the other half?” Sokka said sharply, his voice cutting through the air like a knife.

Zuko cleared his throat as Aang and Katara shared a look, and Suki’s lips pressed together in a thin line.

“Making sure no one assassinates me in my sleep,” Zuko said, his tone purposefully light, though it did nothing to ease the knot of tension in Sokka’s chest. A thousand accusing words tumbled up from the roiling pit of his stomach and teetered on the tip of his tongue as Zuko met his gaze with a confused expression on his scarred face.

 _And what’s she doing in your bedroom while you sleep?_  The question lived and died in his blue eyes as he glared at his friend.

“Well, you’re not dead or bedding desperate ladies every night, so I guess you’re definitely getting what you’re paying for. I’d say Suki deserves a raise,” Toph joked, her voice breaking through the tension as she jabbed her elbow into Suki’s ribs. The others laughed, but Suki was staring at him with a hurt expression on her face.

The awkwardness of last night hadn’t been forgotten. This morning had been tense. Neither of them had said much over breakfast. There were so many things that they just weren’t talking about, and he felt like a complete chicken shit for not confronting her. For not asking the right questions. For not demanding that she tell him what was wrong.

But he  _knew_  what was wrong, or thought he did.

Now he could barely look her in the eyes. And all he wanted to do was grab Zuko by the throat and shove him against the airship while demanding that he stop looking at Suki like that.

_She’s mine, asshole. Just because Mai left you doesn’t mean you can take my girlfriend from me…_

As soon as that thought entered his head, he felt a rising tide of guilt in him that he pushed back with painful twist. His hands fisted at his sides as Toph hugged Suki. Suki said something to her that he couldn’t hear, her gaze still on him over the smaller woman’s shoulder.

“Sokka?” He started as he turned toward Zuko, who had walked over to him, his hand out. Automatically, he took Zuko’s hand, shaking it. “We haven’t had much of a chance to talk since I arrived.”

“I know you’ve been busy,” he said curtly.

“Yes,” Zuko agreed with a shrug. “But still. I hope you and Suki had a nice night. I know she’s been pining for you the last couple of weeks.”

“Has she?” he said through stiff lips.

Zuko looked at him oddly. “Of course. You know, I feel like I’ve been keeping her from you.”

_I’ll bet you do._

“Is there something going on that I should know about, Zuko?” Sokka said softly, glancing toward Suki, who was watching them with an apprehensive look on her face. He turned back to Zuko, who looked perplexed.

“I don’t know what you mean.” He  _did_  look confused, Sokka noticed. Zuko’s eyes narrowed and he leaned toward him, his voice pitching lower. “Did you and Suki have a fight?”

“No. It’s nothing. She just seemed distracted. We…uh…both were.”

“Oh, I see. Well, I’m sure it’s nothing.” Sokka studied Zuko’s face as he turned his gaze on Suki. Zuko’s eyes softened for a moment and then he squared his shoulders, clapping him on the shoulder. “She loves you very much, Sokka. You’re a lucky man.”

“Don’t you fucking forget it.”

Before Zuko could respond to his pointed remark, Zuko’s pilot came out of the airship and announced that they were ready to depart. Zuko squeezed his shoulder and then walked away. He hugged Toph, and then Katara again, before shaking Aang’s hand.

Sokka turned to see Suki coming toward him. She’d been keeping her distance since they’d arrived on Air Temple Island together. The odd, unspoken weight seemed to settle between them even now.

“Sokka…” She reached for him, enclosing his fingers in her gloved hand. There was a sad, worried look on her painted face. “Is everything okay? Did I… Did I do something? Are you angry with me?”

Here was his chance.  _Just ask her. Ask her what’s going on between her and Zuko. Ask her if the rumors are true. Do it. You have to know…_

The questions tumbled back down his throat, choking him. He stared into her beautiful eyes and felt a weight on his chest. He thought of the distance between them last night, the miles stretching between their hearts, even as they made love. Everything was different. Something had changed.

He couldn’t say the words though.

“No, of course not. I’m just… I’m being an asshole. I just don’t want you to go,” he said, which was the truth. If she left now, he knew, somewhere deep down, that he might never get her back. He didn’t know how he knew it, but he felt it in his bones. He reached out and cupped her face.

“I don’t want to go either. Maybe in a few weeks I can come for a visit. If Zuko doesn’t need me, that is.”

Anger flashed in him. “I’m sure if you just  _told_  him you needed time off he’d give it to you.”

“I’ll ask,” she said softly. “Write to me and let me know when your schedule isn’t so hectic, okay? Actually…just write to me. Please? I miss you so much when you don’t write.”

He forced a smile onto his lips. “I promise. I’ll write every week. Twice, if I can spare the time.”

“Don’t forget.”

“I won’t,” he said solemnly.

“Are we okay?” she asked tentatively.

“Of course,” he said, bringing her in for a soft, sweet kiss. He could still feel the heat between them, and despite it all, despite his questions, his suspicions, her distance, he knew that she felt it too. When he pulled away, he rested his forehead against hers. “Don’t forget about me when you’re gone.”

“Never,” she said with a smile.

“We’ll be together again soon.”

“Promise?”

“I promise,” he said and kissed her lips lightly. Then she slipped out of his hands and walked to the airship, which was floating a foot or so off of the courtyard now. Zuko and Ty Lee were already in the carriage, and as Suki approached, the Fire Lord held out his hand for her. He pulled her into the open door of the carriage, and the buffeting winds practically threw them into each other.

Sokka’s eyes narrowed as he saw Zuko’s arm slip around Suki’s waist to steady her. She smiled at him, one hand on his shoulder. Zuko’s face colored and then he let go of her, pulling the door shut with a wave of his hand. Aang cut the mooring ropes and the airship lifted into the early autumn sky, spiraling up into the clouds with a golden glint and a flash of red.

Sokka watched them go until the clouds swallowed them, his arms crossed over his chest, his face a mask. Katara and Aang walked away, but Toph came and stood silently beside him.

After a few minutes, she punched his shoulder.

“Ow.”

“Wuss.” He grunted in reply and she let out an exasperated sound. “What is your problem? Seriously, I thought you were going to punch Zuko for a minute there.”

“Stay out of it, Toph.”

She snorted. “Like that’s gonna happen. What’s the deal?”

“Go away,” he turned on his heel to walk away, but the ground beneath his feet shifted and he felt the cobblestones rise, entrapping his left foot with a hard grip. He looked down at his trapped foot and then up at Toph. “Seriously?”

“Start talking,” Toph said, jabbing him in the shoulder. He stared at her, knowing that she wasn’t going to let him get away, not until she got what she wanted. Reluctantly, he ran a hand down his face and sighed.

“Suki and I…”

“Had a fight?”

“Sort of. Things are weird. I don’t know why.”

“Sure, just like you haven’t heard an ass-ton of rumors about Zuko banging your girlfriend,” Toph said and for once, he felt a little jealous of Toph’s ability to cut through the bullshit and hit the heart of the matter dead in the black.

“They’re not true.”

“ _I_  know that. Suki wouldn’t cheat on you, and I know Zuko wouldn’t do anything so underhanded. But do  _you_ know that?”

His jaw jutted out, teeth clenching hard as he glanced at his friend. “She has a crush on him.”

“A crush? What are we, teenagers? Who cares if she’s got a crush on him. She’s in love with  _you_.”

“I’m not sure if that’s true anymore. I think there’s something going on there. Maybe she doesn’t realize it. Maybe  _he_  doesn’t…but I can just feel it.  I just… I think I’m losing her,” he whispered, feeling gutted.

“So how is acting like a festering butthole and pushing her away supposed to help then? If you think you’re losing her, then  _go get her_.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“It is for me. See the guy. Want the guy. Get the guy.”

“Kick the guy out in the morning when you’re done with him,” he teased, fighting a grin for the first time. To her credit, Toph didn’t look even a bit ashamed as she shrugged and grinned back at him.

“Men are like apples. Satisfying when I have a craving, but easily bruised and just as easily tossed out when I’m finished with them.”

“Slut.”

“That’s Chief Slut to you,” she said, affronted as she lightly tapped his chin with her closed fist. “Cheer up. You haven’t lost her yet.”

“What if I do?”

Toph shrugged again and released his foot. “I wish I had the answers for you, Sokka, but I don’t.”

He watched her walk away for a moment, and the glanced up at the sky. The airship was long gone though. He felt a weight settle on his chest. He hoped that he was wrong, that it was just those stupid rumors getting to him.

He declined to say goodbye to his sister and brother-in-law and rode the ferry back to the city in a cloud of unhappiness. He tried to throw himself into his work, but all he could think about was the way Zuko had put his arm around Suki’s waist to steady her. Finally, darkness fell on the city, and a thick fog rolled in off of the sea.

It matched his mood. He stared out his office window for a long while, and then pulled out a bottle of alcohol. It burned all the way down his throat, but he took drink after drink just to dull the pain. It was nearing midnight, everything swirling and warm, when he passed out at his desk.

He dreamed of Suki, and a shadow between them. He reached for her, but there was someone else there instead. He screamed a name, he wasn’t sure what it was, and then he felt like he was falling into water. The ocean swallowed him up, tumbling him through the surf. His lungs screamed for air, but as he stroked for the surface, a hand came down on top of his head and pushed him back under.

“WAKE UP!” someone shouted, as he felt something cold and wet slap him in the face with a startling shock.

“NO!” he screamed, sitting up and reeling out of his chair. He landed against the wall, catching himself on his bookshelf at the last second. Still half-caught in his drink-induced nightmare, he wasn’t sure if the phantom before him was real, or just another horrible part of his dream. “What the fuck….?”

“Oh good, you’re awake,” Azula sneered.


	3. Two

“This has to be the stupidest idea Mai has ever had...” Azula mumbled to herself as she waited outside of the newly minted Southern Water Tribe Cultural Center. Dread filled her, along with a sense of foreboding. She had the sudden sense that she was trapped.

Maybe it was the fog that was blanketing the city, turning everything to mist and shadow, or maybe it was the thought of what Mai wanted her to do—had _demanded_ that she do.

Why she'd given in to Mai's demand, she'd never understand, but she had come to Republic City just the same, with the full intention of asking someone who hated her for help. To say that it left a bitter taste in her mouth was underselling things at a bit.

Of all the places she had found herself over the past year, and of all the dangerous things she'd done in her guise as a Smoke Demon, this task might prove to be the one that made her break her cover.

A bitter twist took hold of her mouth as she skulked against the wall. She was supposed to meet Mai here at sun-up so they could do this together. Mai hadn't seemed confident in her ability to handle this task correctly.

_As if I couldn't handle him._

Her gaze turned to the light shining in one of the upper offices— _his_ office, she knew from her intel. She'd planned on following him home, stalking him, but he hadn't left all night. It was best, she'd discovered, to get to know her enemies before engaging them. Mai trusted him, but Azula didn't.

She didn't actually know anything about him. She never had, not really.

The light burned on, tempting her patience. The night seemed too close, too familiar to her, and she found herself digging her nails into her palms, drawing blood in an attempt to calm the rising panic in her.

She thought she saw figures through the fog, dark figures, burning figures, slowly shambling toward her. Accusing her. She backed into the wall, trying to tell herself it wasn't real, that none of it was real, as she so often did. It didn't work. It never did.

She let out a breath, squeezing her eyes shut, praying the figures would go away. She knew they would eventually, these ghosts that haunted her, though they would be back when she least expected them to.

_I deserve it,_ she thought as she dug her nails into her skin, wishing she could draw a knife and rip open a wound, to let the demons out of her in a rush of red blood and sweet, releasing pain. She held on though, bouncing her head back into the wall until not even the cushion of her ponytail could keep the throbbing out of her skull.

“Not my fault... Not my fault...” she said, though it was a lie, and the human torches tormenting her knew it. Finally she caught her breath, only now realizing how she'd been gasping for air, which had seemed to0 heavy, the fog laying on her skin like a clammy blanket.

She opened her eyes and stared into the mist, but the street was empty. Maybe it always had been. She found it so hard to tell what was real and what wasn't. She found it easier just to retreat altogether, which was why Mai had insisted she work with a partner from now on. Mai didn't think she was capable of what the Smoke Demons were asking of her. That she needed a babysitter.

Azula drew in an unsteady breath and glanced up at the light burning in the window.

She couldn't wait for Mai any longer and she knew it. She couldn't stand here and wait for the figures to hunt her through the fog again. She crept into the empty building and followed the stairs up to the second floor. She waited outside of his office door, listening for signs of movement, imagining that he was bent over paperwork or something equally mundane and boring and so... _peasant-like._

After a few moments though, she caught the sound of a heavy, rasping snore. She rolled her eyes. Of course. He was asleep.

“Idiot,” she ground out, slowly opening the door to his office. She poked her head in, but he didn't stir.

As she walked silently into the room, she saw that he was slumped across his desk, hair half-spilled out of a haphazard wolf's tail, drool pooling on a pile of papers below his stubbled cheek. He was wearing a sleeveless blue shirt, having taken off his more formal outer coat at some point in the day. His tanned and toned arms—the arms of a warrior, not a politician—rested on the desktop, one hand curled around a nearly empty liquor bottle.

Azula studied him in the light of his lamp, trying to spy the teenaged boy she had battled so long ago. There was something of him still in there, in the softness of his lips and the furrow of his brow, but the man before her was hard now, more angular, muscular, refined like a diamond cut from coal.

He gave a deep, abrasive snore, but didn't wake up.

She crossed the room and plucked the bottle from his limp fingers, taking a sniff before wiping the rim off with her sleeve. She took a long swig, feeling the fiery liquid burn on its way down. Her eyes watered a little.

“No wonder you're comatose, this piss-water could put down a moose lion,” she said aloud, but he didn't stir. “Wake up, you drunken lout. WAKE UP!”

He obstinately refused, and she reached forward, slapping him across the back of his shaved head, but he just gave a croaking grunt and shoved his face against his damp papers. A growl reared out of her and she shoved his shoulder.

“WAKE UP!”

Nothing.

Fire blazed in her hand, blue and hot. She studied him, weighing the affects of setting him on fire. Maybe an electrical jolt would do the trick?

But her eyes fell on a pitcher of water sitting ignored on the table in the corner. It was dewy with condensation and full to the brim. Azula let the flames sparking above her hand die out and marched purposely over to the pitcher, seized with with a slosh and marched back over to the sleeping drunk at the desk.

“WAKE UP!” she shouted as loud as she could and tossed the whole pitcher into his face.

The affect was immediate.

“NO!” He reared back, sputtering, confused, falling out of his chair and stumbling back until he hit the wall. He caught himself, blinking in shock as his gaze swiveled around the room, and landed on her. His mouth opened in surprise as he recognized her. “What the fuck...?”

“Oh good, you're awake,” Azula sneered, putting the pitcher down on the desk next to the bottle of booze.

A pair of bleary, bloodshot blue eyes blinked at Azula from between the loose strands of dripping, dark brown hair that had escaped his loose wolf's tail. He seemed unable to process her presence in his office, his life, his universe.

Or at least that was her first impression. Her next impression of him was, “Oh, shit.”

“ _You._ ”

Sokka pushed away from the wall with a roar of rage that seemed to boil up out of the depths of his soul. His leg lashed out kicking his desk at her with a mighty heave she wouldn't have thought him capable of, considering the smell of booze that was coming off of him.

The desk rammed into her legs, knocking her back before she could move out of the way. Pain rode up her legs and she cried out, catching the desk with one hand. She ducked and rolled the next moment, reacting to a blur of movement out of the corner of her eye. She felt something large and heavy fly over her head and slam against the opposite wall with a loud crash.

She hit her knee and glanced at the wall, where the chair he'd thrown at her bounced and broke into two pieces. Flipping her dark hair out of her eyes, she turned her gaze back on him just in time to see him pick up the booze bottle, which had rolled across the desk, spilling the rest of its contents with a noxious haze.

“Wait—!”

He tossed the bottle at her and she reacted on instinct, rising and knocking it aside with a blast of fire. The bottle shattered and rained shards across the room. It also ignited the remaining liquor with a _fwoosh_ of heat, sending bits of fire raining across the office. Sokka yelped as the hem of his shirt caught on fire. He batted at it, and then wrenched it off, tossing the smoldering garment onto the floor.

The look he shot her was pure hatred.

“I don't know what you're here for, bitch, but you're messing with the wrong man,” he snarled, reaching behind him. He grabbed one of several machine-like sculptures sitting in a row on the shelf set into the wall. She didn't know what they were, but they looked heavy. He didn't seem to have any trouble hefting it and lobbing it toward her though.

Azula backed up, kicking burning papers away from her as she pitched herself to the side to avoid the sculpture, which broke against the wall, leaving a long gouge in the plaster. Another one followed, and this one clipped her in the shoulder, knocking her down across a book-strewn table.

As she rolled to the floor, the breath knocked out of her, blood soaking her sleeve and Sokka bearing down on her, she had the sudden thought that maybe she should have waited for Mai after all.

* * *

Sokka kicked aside a burning pile of papers, his breath heaving, sweat and water trickling down his bare chest as he stood over the woman sprawled on the floor in front of him. She clapped one hand over her shoulder, blood seeping between her fingers.

He clenched his hand into a fist. He didn't know what he was going to do, but he wasn't about to let her attack him. She'd probably come there to kill him, after all.

_Azula._

He couldn't believe his eyes. How long had it been since he'd seen her? Three, nearly four years? He honestly couldn't remember. He knew that Zuko had given up tracking her a long time ago. None of them had mentioned her in years. He hadn't spared her a single thought in that time. To say it had been a shock to wake up and see her there in his office, standing there like a ghost from the past was an understatement.

Except she wasn't exactly the girl he remembered. Time had filled out her face and her body, turning her deadly beauty into as much of a weapon as her firebending. But he also couldn't help but notice the shadows in her topaz yellow eyes. Instead of the brash confidence he remembered so well from their confrontations, there was something in her gaze that reminded him of a trapped, injured animal. The strangest sensation of pity came over him, and he couldn't help but remember how unstable she'd been the last time he'd seen her, how broken and lost.

It didn't look like she'd gotten any better.

It was that thought that made him stop a few feet from her, his jaw clenching hard. He grabbed his boomerang off of the shelf beside him without looking and saw her eyes track the movement warily.

“Get up,” he said to her, eying the bloody wound on her shoulder.

“What are you going to do, kill me?” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm, and not a little fear.

“Get. Up.”

Azula dropped her bloody hand from her injured shoulder and climbed gracefully to her feet. She squared her shoulders, tossing the loose strands of her hair back from her face. She glanced at the boomerang and then back at him.

“Why did you attack me?” he asked, the words practically shooting out of him like arrows.

At his words, something of her old haughtiness—much more familiar to him than that scared look in her eyes that had made pity well in him—came over her and she twisted her red lips into a snarl.

“I _didn't_ , you moron! You were so drunk that I couldn't get you to wake up! So I threw water on you.”

“I wasn't drunk,” he said automatically, which caused her eyebrows to lift in disbelief.

“Tell that to your breath,” she snapped at him. He brushed her accusations aside, mostly because it was true.

“What are you doing here?”

“I can't visit an old friend?”

He snorted at her, though there was no humor in it. “Oh, I didn't realize we were friends, what with you constantly trying to kill me, my friends and your own brother. What are you really doing here, Azula?”

Her eyes narrowed on him and then she lifted her chin. “I need your help.”

“And what would a crazy bitch like you need with my help?”

The defiant expression slid off of her face and she seemed, all at once, to shrink back into herself. “Don't. Don't call me crazy.”

Something about her tone set off warning bells in his drink-fogged head. The look of a trapped animal was back in her eyes again, and she took a step back, her feet slipping on books, her face draining of color.

He pushed the pity back. He'd learned a long time ago not to trust Azula. She was a liar, a manipulator, and a snake. Whatever she was doing, he wouldn't fall for it.

“But you _are_ crazy. You're a psychotic piece of shit and everyone knows it,” he said through the alcohol still slamming through his veins. Maybe if he hadn't been drunk he wouldn't have said it, but that hardly mattered. He knew the moment the words left his mouth that he'd just made a mistake.

Azula's nostrils flared and then she screamed out something unintelligible, lashing out at him with a handful of fire.

He moved, maybe slower than normal, but fast enough to avoid the blast of heat that seared past him and ignited against the wall. He tossed the boomerang at her, but she ducked and rolled, sweeping out her leg and sending another volley of fire in his direction at ankle-height.

The blast struck him, setting fire to his pants. He danced backward, slapping at the fire to put it out. His boomerang flew past his head and clattered against the wall.

“BASTARD!”

He looked up, just in time to get a punch to the face that sent him reeling back against the floor. He tasted blood in his mouth as he landed on his back. The next instant, Azula was straddling him, her fist rearing back again.

The second punch caught him on the jaw, knocking his face to the side. She drew back her fist for a third blow and he caught her hand, wrenching her arm back. Then, with a might heave, he lifted them both up and slammed her back down onto the floor beneath him.

A volley of fire narrowly missed his face as she got her other hand around, but he caught her wrist, surprised at how fragile she felt in his wide, strong hands. He pinned both of her wrists to the ground above her head and trapped her body to the floor with his own, one of his knees pressing down on top of hers. She bucked beneath him, hissing like an enraged cat as she tried and failed to get free.

“Give it up, Azula! You're not going anywhere until I get some answers!”

But she wasn't listening. Something in her was changing, now that he had her trapped. The anger faded into something more visceral. Something that shocked and shamed him.

“GET OFF OF ME! PLEASE! GET OFF! DON'T! PLEASE! NOT AGAIN! No, no-no-no-no-no!” she gasped, the panic in her eyes so genuine that it rocked him to his core. Her fear was palpable and bone-deep, her attempts to get out from under him born of a terror he couldn't even fathom the origin of. Tears filled her shocky eyes; her breathing was ragged and just this side of hyperventilation.

He'd seen a few panic attacks in his life. He knew the signs and he knew she wasn't faking it.

Shame welled in him and he levered himself backward, feeling suddenly sick to his stomach. “Azula...?”

A red and black dagger suddenly landed on the floor beside her head, quivering there for a moment as Sokka he stared at it in shock while Azula's plaintive cries continued. His head snapped up a moment later, finding the source of the thrown weapon standing in the doorway to his office.

Mai's narrow eyes glinted like steel beneath the heavy fringe of her oil-black hair, her mouth a flat line. Two more daggers caught the light as she palmed them menacingly. He was as shocked to see her as he had been Azula. The last time they'd met was when she'd still been dating Zuko, and they'd been broken up for nearly a year.

He couldn't imagine why she was in his office, now of all times. His drink-slowed mind just couldn't process it, not after everything that had happened.

“Mai! What are you--?”

“Get off of her. Right now!” Mai's husky voice brooked no argument, and the command in her tone caused his hold on Azula's wrists to loosen. Azula sensed his weakness, twisting her arms away from him and bringing her knee into his crotch with a hard slam.

Pain exploded in his crotch as his balls took the force of the blow. He gasped, crumpling in on himself and rolling to the side. His hand went to his balls, protectively cupping them as tears sprang to his eyes, but it was too late. The damage had been done.

The sobs coming out of Azula convinced him that maybe he had had it coming.

Azula scrambled out from beneath him, letting out a strangled sound that tore through his pain like a knife. She backed up into the corner, shaking like a leaf, so pale he was sure she might pass out at any moment.

Tears ran down her cheeks as she sobbed, one hand going to her mouth as if to cover the sounds she was making. Sokka rolled over, digging his fingers into the floor with a groan, watching as Mai approached Azula, slowly, like she was approaching a wounded animal.

“Azula...”

“Not again, not again, not again, not again...” she was saying, rocking back and forth, her gaze fixated on something that wasn't there. Sokka felt his throat closing as he watched her. Mai touched her shoulder, but the girl just shook in place, looking broken and lost.

“Mai...” he started, maybe to apologize, but somehow the words wouldn't come. He swallowed and wiped his hand down his wet face. “Mai, what the fuck is going on?”

Mai turned back to face him, her expression livid, her tone accusing. “She came to you for help and you attacked her!”

Shame reared in him again. “I... I'm sorry, I didn't... What's wrong with her? I've never seen her like that before.”

Mai shook her head. “I don't know. She gets like this sometimes. She's not well.”

Sokka put his head in his hands for a moment. “Okay...but why is she here? Why are _you_ here? _What_ is going on?”

Mai took a deep breath and then squared her shoulders, turning back to him with that grave expression on her face again. Maybe he really was still drunk, because the next words out of her mouth left him just as confused as before.

“Someone's going to kill Zuko, unless you and Azula stop them.”

Sokka stared at her for a long moment and then glanced at Azula, who was still shaking and mumbling under her breath and was now digging her nails into her face. He glanced around at his office, noting the burning papers and scorch marks on the walls, his burning desk and broken sculptures.

He turned back to Mai and sighed a little. “I think I'm gonna need another drink.”


	4. Three

 

“Okay, okay, slow down!” Aang said, holding up his hand, his eyes wide with disbelief as he looked between Sokka and Mai, and then toward Azula, who was tucked into the corner, her gaze on the floor. “What do you mean someone's going to kill Zuko?”

Sokka rubbed at the bridge of his nose, trying to ignore the hangover that had slowly been creeping up on him since his disastrous fight with Azula only an hour before. Mai had tried to explain everything in his office, but he'd insisted on heading to Air Temple Island. If anyone could help, it was his brother-in-law, the Avatar. Besides, a sober viewpoint was definitely needed, and he was decidedly lacking one at the moment.

“Mai? It's _your_ show, you explain it,” Sokka said wearily.

Mai tucked her hands into her long sleeves and pulled a little grimace, glancing between Aang and Katara. His sister hadn't said anything since their arrival on Air Temple Island, but she was watching Azula with mistrust icing her eyes, the line of her jaw hard. Sokka could practically hear her teeth grinding from across the room.

Or maybe that was just his hangover talking.

“Where should I start? It's a bit of a long story,” Mai said.

“The beginning,” Aang insisted. Mai took a breath, thought a moment, and then launched in.

“Nearly two years ago, after I broke up with Zuko, I was approached by a man I'd never met before. He attacked me in the street, and then ran away before I could catch him. The next thing I know, he's in my bedroom talking to me about my _potential,_ and the potential of the Fire Nation. I'd heard that spiel before, from my father. This sounded like more of the same,” Mai said in a flat drawl.

“You didn't attack him?” Aang asked, settling down on the arm of one of the poofy little chairs strewn around the room.

“I nearly did, but the more he talked, the more I realized he wasn't just another crazy who hated the Fire Lord. He dropped more than a few hints that he wasn't working alone, that he had the backing of someone powerful, someone who was determined to see Zuko dead. I knew if I spooked him and he ran, I might not ever see him again. He was good enough to get away from me once and who knew what kind of threat he actually posed?”

“So what did you do?”

“I played along,” Mai said, with a shrug. “And eventually he brought me to his boss.”

“He trusted you from the start?”

“Not hardly. I'm not convinced they even trust me now, which proves they're not stupid. No, he had me do a few jobs for them, to prove myself willing to be taken into the fold. I learned, little by little, that they call themselves the Smoke Demons. And for a long time that was _all_ I knew. Even after I was initiated as one of them,” Mai said, pulling back the collar of her shirt and revealing a black flame tattooed on her collarbone.

“Is that real?” Katara asked.

“Unfortunately. Getting the tattoo is just another way to prove your dedication to the cause,” Mai said. “I had no choice.”

Katara's eyes narrowed. “So why did they come to you?”

“I'd just, rather publicly, broken up with the Fire Lord. Doubtless they thought I could be a good source of information about Zuko's activities, his schedule, his security force. And they're right. I know everything about the palace. I know how to get in and out undetected, and if there's one thing I know, it's Zuko.”

“You told them about Zuko?!” Aang exclaimed, getting to this feet in an instant.

Mai appeared unmoved though, the corners of her mouth tightening. “Yes, I did.” There was a certain bitter flavor to Mai's voice, which amused Sokka. At least he wasn't alone in his less than-charitable feelings about Zuko lately.

“Why?” Katara spoke up, her voice as icy as her gaze.

Mai glanced from Katara to Aang and then took a measured breath. “Because I needed them to trust me, and if they thought I was withholding anything, they would have killed me.”

“Killed you?” Aang said, the tension going out of his body. “You think they would have killed you?”

Mai's brow arched. “Of course I do. The Smoke Demons are murderers. Assassins. Bloodthirsty, cruel and most of all, willing to keep secrets. They can and will kill to keep those secrets, Aang. I witnessed that myself, in the beginning. I didn't tell them _everything_ about Zuko though. Just enough to please them. I didn't like it, but I made a calculated choice.”

Silence fell on them for a moment. Then Katara spoke.

“What do these Smoke Demons want? Who are your contacts? What do you do for them?”

Mai glanced back at Azula and then turned back to Katara. “They want to take over the Fire Nation. I don't know who 'they' all are. I only have two contacts. One is the man who recruited me. His name is Nobu. The other is June. I believe you know her?”

“The bounty hunter with the lizard-thingy.” Aang nodded. “She's working for them?”

“She was. She's with me now.”

Katara's eyes narrowed. “And why has she switched sides?”

Mai smiled a little. “I paid her.”

“Sounds like June,” Sokka snorted.

Mai acknowledged him with a tilt of her head, then plowed onward. “At first Nobu just pumped me for information. Zuko's security detail, his schedule, weaknesses in the palace's defenses. I only told them what I had to. But that still wasn't enough. They started sending me on little errands. Missions clearly designed to test my loyalty to the cause.”

“Such as?” Aang prompted.

Mai's mouth tightened again. “Things I'm not proud of, Avatar Aang. People got hurt. No one died. I made sure of that. I faltered just once in my orders, however, and that's when I learned how very serious a threat the Smoke Demons are. Nobu nearly killed me for what he perceived as a failure on my part. If June hadn't been there, blood would have been shed. I'd like to say I would have survived the encounter, but Nobu is a better fighter than I am, at least in hand to hand. No one bests me with throwing daggers, but I'm not a melee fighter. He would have won, and I know it.”

“How did June stop him?” Sokka asked.

“She lied and said she was under orders to see that no harm came to me, that I was still useful to the cause. That was when I knew she could be bought off. It wasn't hard. June didn't like some of the things the Smoke Demons had her doing. She'd joined for the money, but even that wasn't enough eventually. She was looking for a reason to defect.”

“So what happened after that?” Aang asked.

“I was sent on more and more dangerous missions—and recruitment missions. There are plenty of people in the Earth Kingdom and the Fire Nation who don't like the Harmony Restoration Movement and miss Ozai, as incredible as that seems. It was my job to get them to sign up,” Mai said bitterly. “All the while I was attempting to find out more about the Smoke Demons. Who are they, where they come from, who was funding them? They have a lot of gold to throw around. It must come from somewhere.”

“What have you found out?” Sokka asked.

Mai shook her head. “Not much. The organization is structured so that you have no idea where the orders are really coming from. I get my orders from Nobu, and he gets his orders from only two other people, who get their orders from two others, and on up the chain of command. However far up that chain goes, I haven't been able to determine. I tried following Nobu, to see if I could find out his handlers, but he gets all of his instructions from a messenger hawk. I intercepted a hawk, but the letter was in code and I wasn't able to decipher it. June's handlers were a lot easier to follow once I got her on my side.”

“And who are they?” Katara asked.

“An ex-general ousted from Ozai's army, and an Earth Kingdom land baron who lost a lot of money when the Harmony Restoration Movement shut down his illegal supply runs. I'm trying to follow them to _their_ handlers, but I'm pretty sure they get coded messages as well. I'm determined to find the leader or leaders of this damned thing. It's not easy following orders and subverting them at the same time, and I was sure once I brought Azula on, they'd see an end to my usefulness.”

Sokka glanced back at Azula, who seemed to be recovering from their fight in his office. Her chin came up at the mention of her name and she met his gaze for one fleeting moment, but then looked away just as quickly.

“Are they still sending you on jobs?” Katara asked slowly, the line of her shoulders stiff as she glared daggers at the exiled princess.

“Yes. I'm their top recruiter. I have a whole list of names, of agents even lower on the chain than me. All of them just as dangerous though, just as determined to end Zuko's rule and install some shadow figurehead on the throne,” Mai said, with a sudden fierceness in her voice and a glimmer of anger in her normally bored gaze.

Sokka peered at the young woman, sensing something in her that he recognized from long ago, back when she had hunted for Aang's head, with Azula at the helm. Mai was out for blood.

“You're gonna kill them,” he said softly. Mai's angular jaw tightened and she glanced at Sokka, meeting his gaze for a long moment.

“I've already started,” she said, her voice as sharp as a blade.

“Wait, what?” Aang said, alarmed.

“Good,” Katara said, surprising him. His sister had a dark streak, that was for sure. He sometimes forgot that.

“Mai, have you been killing--” Aang started, but Katara put her hand on his shoulder, stopping him.

“These people are dangerous, Aang. They're killers. Rapists. Assassins. Thieves. Torturers. The worst scum of the world. I've only killed a few, and only in ways that make it look accidental. I can't blow my cover. Not while I'm trying to figure out who is behind this, but I can't let these people walk free. I know how you feel about killing,” Mai said, though she didn't sound apologetic. Sokka agreed with her, but he knew Aang well enough to know how he was going to take it.

“You could turn them in. Get them arrested!”

“Most of them have been in jail before. That hasn't stopped them. They'll get out again. And if they're on the Smoke Demons' radar, coin will pass hands and they'll be released. It's already happened. I've witnessed it. The leaders of this thing have coin. A lot of it. They have connections; nowhere is safe. If I don't stop them, then they're just one more body to throw at Zuko,” Mai said patiently. “They're causing a lot of harm as it is, and I know that for a fact.”

“What do you mean?”

Mai looked down at her feet, her face paling a bit. There was a quiet kind of horror in her eyes.

“I recruited a rapist on Duck Island two months ago. He's been terrorizing the island in the name of the Smoke Demons ever since. He's been leaving a burn-mark on his victim's faces, in the shape of a flame. He doesn't kill the women. He doesn't have to,” Mai said bitterly.

Katara's entire body was suddenly shaking. Sokka glanced over at Azula and saw her flinching, her face as pale as death. She squeezed her eyes shut and bit down so hard on her lip he was sure it was going to bleed.

“Why would they do that?” Katara asked in a voice shaking with rage. “Why would they want someone to do that? Why haven't we heard about it?”

Mai tilted her head back. “Because I suspect the Governor of Duck Island is a Smoke Demon. He's not letting the information out, and the people are too terrified to speak out. When I leave here, that's where I'm going. I'm going to take care of the problem I helped create, and I will not apologize for that, Avatar.”

“What if they catch you?”

“They won't,” Mai said in a voice as hard as a blade. Sokka found himself admiring the woman.

“I don't like it,” Aang mumbled

“You don't have to,” Mai said. “I'm not asking for permission.”

“No, you just want my brother to risk his life to help you,” Katara said, though she wasn't looking at Mai, but was instead giving Azula the stink-eye again. “Why is she here?”

“She's standing in front of you, and you can address her by her name,” Azula snapped, surprising him into half-turning to face her again. The tone of her voice shocked him a little. She sounded like the Azula he knew again, and nothing like the wounded girl crying in a corner of his office. She was glaring right back at Katara.

“You have some nerve--” Katara started, but Mai stepped forward, breaking their glare with an exasperated expression on her face.

“Enough,” Mai snapped. “Azula is here because I was ordered to recruit her to the cause.”

“I'm sure she jumped at the opportunity too,” Katara said acidly.

“That's where you're wrong,” Azula said. “Believe it or not, I don't wish my brother harm.”

“You're right, I _don't_ believe that,” Katara said.

“She's telling the truth, Katara,” Mai said. “She's on our side.”

Aang shook his head. “But why did they want you to recruit Azula in the first place?”

“They want to put me on the throne,” Azula drawled, a smirk on her face. “Or so I've been told.”

“By whom?”

“After Mai recruited me and I proved myself loyal, I had a meeting with a bunch of people in hoods and masks. They told me that they wanted Zuzu off the throne, and that they wanted me to take over the Fire Nation.”

“Do you know who these people were?”

“Not a clue. Mai tried to track them, but failed. They may have been the top brass, but I have no idea. There were ten of them. I didn't recognize any voices.”

Mai's jaw clenched at that, and Sokka could tell that she was bitter about it.

“So you're a Smoke Demon, and they want you to take over if Zuko's killed. What do you need Sokka for?” Katara asked.

“Good question,” Azula snapped, glaring at Mai for a moment. “It wasn't my idea, but Mai here seems to think that I'm...not up to the task I've been given. She thinks I need help.”

“Damn right, you do,” Katara snapped.

“Hey, back off, Katara,” Sokka found himself saying. “You're not helping.”

“I don't need YOU to stick up for me,” Azula snapped at him. “And I certainly don't need you to babysit me. I can handle this on my own.”

“Handle what, exactly?” Aang prompted.

Azula glanced at Mai and then set her jaw. “I've been working under Mai's eye for the past several months. She's been my handler, but Nobu told her that it was time I was put to good use. They're sending me to the Fire Nation. I'm going to work as a saboteur.”

“Doing?”

“Nobu wouldn't say. Only that I was to send Azula to Keiko Island. There will be orders awaiting her at an inn in town,” Mai said. “That's all I know about her mission for now...but there are things that June told me. About what their plans are for Azula in the future.”

“And that is?”

“They want someone to assassinate Zuko. They're eventually going to send Azula to the palace. We think they're going to order her to kill Zuko. Or perhaps another Smoke Demon.”

“Then we should warn Zuko!”

“We can't. There are spies in the palace. If we play our hand too soon, they'll cover their tracks. We need to play the game for now.”

“But Zuko's in danger,” Katara insisted.

“He is, but I don't think the threat is immediate. The Smoke Demons are trying to take over the Fire Nation's armed forces first. They want to cripple the Nation before they attack, and they have to gather their numbers for an army. They won't try to take over until they know they can win. It would be foolish to kill Zuko now,” Mai said.

“So where do I come in?” Sokka asked.

Azula rolled her eyes, but he ignored her. He was looking at Mai, who was pulling a scroll out of her sleeve. She handed it to him, and he rolled it open to reveal the wanted poster of a swarthy man with chin-length hair, a stubbled jaw and tattoos up and down his muscled arms. He glanced at the name and the reward, and whistled throug his teeth.

“That's a lot of Yuans. What did this....Tazeo do?” Sokka asked.

“Tazeo was an expert in demolitions, thievery and murder,” Mai said. “He was also extremely against the Harmony Restoration Movement, and especially disliked the Fire Lord. He was a nasty brute, and I was tasked with recruiting him two days ago in the tenement camps outside of Republic City.”

“Was?” Sokka hazarded, meeting Mai's gaze.

“I murdered him and stole his clothing and gear,” Mai said flatly. “Then I buried his body in the mountains where no one will ever find it.”

“What the fuck,” Aang intoned in a stricken voice. “Mai, why did you...? You murdered him? Why?”

“Because Sokka is going to take his place. I convinced Nobu that Azula wasn't stable enough to be sent on missions on her own. He wouldn't let me go with her, but agreed that Tazeo could, if I could recruit him.”

“So I'm going to pretend to be this Tazeo guy?” Sokka said, glancing at the image on the scroll. It was eerie looking at a dead man, but he could see a passing resemblance between them, especially if he let his hair down, and grew some stubble...

Someone only passing familiar with the brute might believe that he was Tazeo.

Katara turned angry blue eyes on him. “Tell me you're not going to say yes to this!”

Sokka glanced at Azula, who was watching him out the corner of her eye. She looked defensive, but not angry. At the moment.

He glanced back at Mai, down at the scroll, and then looked up and met his sister's questioning gaze.

“I already have.”

 


	5. Four

**Chapter Four:**

* * *

 

Sokka peered at the slowly receding shore through the shrouding fog, the familiar lights of Republic City like dying stars winking out one by one the further the ship chugged into the bay. Despite the distance, he imagined he could still see his sister, Aang and Toph standing on the docks. The worry and disapproval on Katara’s face had been unmistakable before the fog had wreathed in around the ship and swallowed it whole.

For the past week, ever since Azula and Mai had laid out their plans to stop the Smoke Demons, Katara had been very vocal about her displeasure with his decision to go undercover with Azula. He knew she was worried about him, but a lot of her anger was directed at Azula.

He could still hear the tremble in Katara’s voice as she stood in the doorway of his room that morning, packing and unpacking

“I don’t trust her,” Katara had said. “I know you don’t either.”

“Of course, I don’t. But I trust Mai.”

“Well, Mai hasn’t always had the best judgment either, and it’s not _her_ brother she’s putting on the line.”

“No, just her own ass,” Sokka had said, glancing up at Katara. “She’s been fighting this fight the whole time alone, Katara. She can’t take on a whole terrorist cell by herself and Zuko’s life is on the line. Someone has to do something.”

“We can all do something. Aang is the Avatar–”

“You heard Mai, these people are experts at hiding who they are. If we come at them with the big guns now they’ll go underground and we won’t catch them until they strike at us from a place we’re not expecting. This requires subtlety.”

Katara snorted. “You’re subtle?”

“I can be!” he’d said, turning toward her and sighing. “We have to give Mai time to find the leaders of this cell, and if playing along will do that, then I’m in.”

“Just promise me you’ll be safe.”

He met his sister’s gaze, dropping the boomerang he had decided not to bring with him onto the bed as he walked over to her. He pulled her into a tight hug. “I can’t promise that and you know it. That would be pretty stupid. And I’m not stupid.”

“Yeah, you are,” she said, pulling back. “Did you write Suki?”

Guilt had broken through him at that. “No. Not yet. I don’t know what to say… I can’t write to her and tell her what I’m doing in case the letter is intercepted, and I don’t know how to lie to her, you know? I’m going to be gone for a couple of months, maybe longer. I haven’t thought of a good excuse yet.”

“You can leave something with me…”

“No, I’ll write to her once we’re in the Fire Nation. If you hear from her before then, just tell her that I’m busy. Or something. Don’t let on that I’m not here in Republic City. I don’t want her to worry.”

“Promise you’ll think of something to tell her?”

“I promise. Just let me handle it.”

“As long as you promise me you won’t trust Azula. She’s dangerous, Sokka. I don’t care what Mai said. Don’t turn your back on her.”

“I won’t,” he said and kissed the top of Katara’s head. “Azula and I may have to work together, but I’m never going to trust her. That’s why I’m doing this. I don’t think trust her not to turn on Zuko and really try to kill him when the time comes.”

“Watch your back.”

Sokka shook his head of the memory and glanced behind him at the slick metal deck of the Fire Nation trading vessel. It was a scrubby little ship, kept afloat by the Captain’s sheer force of will. He hadn’t said much to Sokka, Azula, or Mai at the dock, but just nodded and turned a blind eye after Mai passed him a hefty bag of gold.

He spotted one of the crew struggling with some rigging, and his first instinct was to go over and help. He started toward the man and then stopped himself.

Helping was something _Sokka_ would do. But he wasn’t Sokka anymore. He was Tazeo now.

 _Tazeo is a hard, intimidating bastard who is only out to help himself,_ he reminded himself. He flexed his fists and stood his ground, attempting to get into character, to fight his instincts. To be another man entirely.

It helped that he looked the part now. The week it had taken for Mai to plan their trip to the Fire Nation and to handle some of her other, unpleasant business in Republic City had also given Sokka the opportunity to grow a scrum of beard on his face.

He had let his hair down and hadn’t shaved his undercut all week, which allowed a fine stubble that would eventually grow in. Until then, he’d have to keep his hair down to hide it. On his legs he wore earth kingdom clothing—dull green pants and a matching wrapped, sleeveless vest, brown boots to his knees and brown leather bracers on his wrists. At his side, he wore a plain sword and a dagger—both of which had belonged to the real Tazeo.

He felt a bit queasy about wearing a dead man’s weapons, especially the weapons of a dead man whose life he was stealing. From what Mai had said, it hadn’t been much of a life, though. Tazeo was a man better left dead and buried in the mountains, but nonetheless, he had to ease into his skin.

That was easier said than done.

Sokka glanced at his bare arms, studying the dark tattoos on his brown skin. They looked strange, but he had to admit, they also looked kind of badass. He was just glad they weren’t permanent. When Mai had pulled out the bottle of henna, he’d been a little worried.

“Uh…”

“It’s not permanent,” Mai had said last night, cutting across the question he had been about to ask. “It’s dark henna. It’ll fade in a few weeks, so you’ll need to keep reapplying it, but it should look real.”

“How am I going to…” he started, but Mai cut him off again, gesturing to Azula, who had been hovering in the corner of Sokka’s sitting room, watching with a closed down expression on her face. It had been the first time he’d seen her since the night she and Mai had dropped the bombshell on them.

He hadn’t been able to get her off of his mind since that night, however, and seeing her again had made him watch her out the corner of his eye with an uncertain wariness. He didn’t know what he was looking for. If he was looking for anything at all.

“Azula will have to do it,” Mai said, glancing at her. “Azula?”

“I don’t see why this is necessary,” Azula had said, and Sokka got the feeling she meant more than just the tattoos. Her clear disapproval of Mai’s plan was nearly as derisive as Katara’s.

“I’m not arguing about this again,” Mai snapped at her, and then softened unexpectedly. “You can watch me do it, and then just touch it up when it needs it, okay?”

“Fine,” Azula said, pushing away from the wall and coming to stand behind Mai as she bent over Sokka’s bare chest. She dipped a brush in the dye and glanced at a rough sketch of a man’s torso, back and arms. “How do you know what his tattoos looked like?”

“I took Tazeo's clothes off and drew this after I killed him,” Mai said in a flat voice. Sokka raised his brows and glanced up at Azula, who lifted her hands.

“Stone cold,” Sokka had said.

“Necessary,” Mai had replied, though there were shadows in her eyes. “He was a terrible person, Sokka. He has a reputation, so you’re going to have to stop being your usual charming self and start being a bastard.”

“I think he’s got that down,” Azula snarked.

“You’re just mad I beat your ass.”

Azula’s eyebrow had lifted, her closed expression growing angry in a flash. Something in him delighted to see it. At least that was closer to the Azula he knew than the blank wall she’d been all evening, and definitely a more comfortable change from the panic-stricken creature who had cowered in his office.

“I spared you. It’s not fair beating up a drunk.”

“I wasn’t drunk!” he said hotly.

“You were drunk,” Mai interjected. “Stop arguing and hold still. Your boobs keep jumping around.”

“They’re not boobs. They’re called pecks. They’re manly.”

“Whatever, you say,” Mai drawled and kept outlining the tattoos. An hour or so later, his skin was outlined in dark flames, rendering him a stranger when he looked in the mirror. The Earth Kingdom clothing and Tazeo’s weapons had completed the look.

And just like that, he was had stepped into another man’s skin.

That wasn’t to say he thought that man’s skin was a good fit, though. He was definitely going to have to fight his instincts if he wanted to stay in character. At least Azula made it easy for him to be surly and churlish. She brought that out in him naturally.

Ignoring the struggling sailor, Sokka lurched across the wet deck and through the door that led to the bowels of the ship. Mai had secured them two closet-sized rooms just off of the ships hold. It wasn’t a comfortable ride, and the hold smelled faintly of the pig-chickens the sailors had been hauling on their last voyage, but he’d been in worse. At least he and Azula didn’t have to share a room. Or a bed.

Azula’s door was closed and he hesitated in front of it. She hadn’t stayed on the deck to watch Republic City slip away but had fled down here the minute they’d boarded. He had let her go. Spirits knew they’d be spending enough time together for the foreseeable future. He felt like the two of them should talk, though. About the plans, about the situation. Just in general.

She was practically a stranger, after all. It had been years since they’d seen each other and they had never been friends before that. And likely never would be. But he felt like he should at least attempt to get along with her, despite how abrasive she was, and how much he wanted to avoid her.

He lifted his hand to knock on the rusted metal door, but before he could, it swung open. Azula looked up and met his gaze, her jewel-yellow eyes shadowed and unhappy.

The conversation he’d had with Toph at the docks echoed in his ears, but her advice seemed a lot harder to follow faced with the woman and the open derision in her gaze.

“Oh…what are you doing?” she said, tossing her long black hair behind her shoulder.

“Um…I thought we should talk…”

Azula looked him up and down, amusement in the twist of her red lips. “What could we possibly have to talk about?”

Sokka glanced around, but they were alone in the hold. Still, he pitched his voice low as he said,  “About the plan. Things. I don’t know…maybe–”

“You _know_ the plan. As far as I’m concerned we can just ignore each other until we reach the Fire Nation. Mai said we had to work together, she didn’t say we had to be friends, _Tazeo_.”

He flinched at the sound of the unfamiliar name, but it reminded him of the role he was supposed to be playing. He wasn’t Sokka. His head tipped back a little and he glared down at her.

“Fine. Play it your way, Princess. Just remember that I’m doing you a favor here and–”

“You’re not doing me anything. You’re doing this for your little girlfriend in the Fire Nation, the one my brother’s so fond of. If someone’s going to try to kill Zuko, you just know she’ll be the first one lining up to protect him. You care about _her_ , so let’s not pretend you’re doing anything else here,” Azula snapped back at him, her voice a low and angry hiss.  

Sokka’s lips twisted, though her words hit him deeper than he would ever admit. The hard light in her gaze dared him to deny it. He shrugged and backed up a step, his jaw tightening.

“You’re right, I don’t care about what happens to you, Azula. I care about Suki.”

“And my brother? I thought you two were friends?”

“We are,” he said through his teeth.

Azula’s eyes flashed and her eyebrow raised. “A friend doesn’t sleep with your girlfriend…or haven’t you heard the rumors?”

Anger boiled in his stomach as Azula gave him a nasty look and forcibly pushed past him.

“That’s–”

“Just stay out of my way,” Azula said over her shoulder. He watched her saunter up the stairs and out of sight. His hands curled into fists and he bared his teeth in a snarl, banging his fist back against the metal hull of the ship. The sound reverberated around the smelly hold, and thumped back into his ears, battling the pounding of his pulse.

“Bitch.”

This was going to be a rough journey.


	6. Five

Another storm was brewing. Azula could feel it in the sway of the ship around her. They were about half-way to the Fire Nation. It had been a lousy few days at sea, with rough waters and storms chasing them the whole way. The rusted metal ship groaned with every swell, water leaking from the ceilings and the permeating stench of pig-chickens still redolent in the air.

As the ship swayed back and forth, groaning like a ghost, she idly pictured the ocean tearing the ship in half and sending them all into the dark gray depths. _Drowning wouldn't be so bad,_ she thought as her empty stomach rumbled and then roiled.

At least if she drowned she'd be well-shot of her traveling companion.

Although, come to think of it, she had seen very little of him since their run-in the day they'd left port. He'd stayed out of her way, which wasn't exactly hard to do, despite how small the ship was. She had barely left her tiny, leaky cabin the whole time, only sneaking out to use the bathroom and to stand on the deck for some fresh air, which had only gotten her soaked in the process.

She had told him to stay away from her...but somehow she was feeling incredibly annoyed that he was avoiding her. She didn't know why.

Mostly Azula was sick of being sick. She didn't normally get queasy at sea, but she was definitely feeling the effects of it now. To avoid throwing up, she had forgone eating entirely. She was starting to feel the nasty side-effects of her self-imposed hunger strike, however. She was lightheaded and weak-limbed...but she'd suffered through longer bouts of starvation before. She knew she would be fine, if the seas would cooperate and give her a break.

She spent the long, stormy days in her tiny cabin, listening to the howling winds, ignoring her bodily complaints and trying to think of what she—they—would be facing in the Fire Nation. It was not a homecoming she was looking forward to. She hadn't been back to the Fire Nation in years. She had never really planned on going back.

She had never really planned anything, until Mai had found her in that inn.

As the ship bounced from one wave to the next, Azula braced herself on her bunk, her head spinning, her stomach churning with each rise and fall. She was thirsty, and the bucket of water she'd gotten two days ago was now empty. She'd have to venture out for more, but that would mean moving, and moving was dangerous.

She couldn't appear weak. What if Sokka saw?

 _What do I care what he thinks?_ Azula thought churlishly, even as another voice rang through her ears.

_How will you hide you it? He'll know how crazy you are. He'll find out the terrible things you've done. He'll have to put you down, like a rabid animal...and you'd deserve it. You're nothing! NOTHING! You deserve pain...to bleed...to burn like they burned..._

The voice blended into another and then another, echoing in the air around her as she fought to ignore them, but the words drilled through her brain, taking root and growing there.

“It's not real...” she mumbled to herself as the voices rose in a fever pitch, crashing, filling her ears until she couldn't hear the ocean any longer. She rocked back and forth on the bunk, the sickening lurch of the ship beneath her making her empty, aching stomach overturn.

“Shut up, shut up, shut up...” she mumbled to herself as she dug her sharp fingernails into the skin of her arms. She raised welts, scratches and eventually blood. The pain shot through the confusing, horrifying haze that lay across her like fog and she held the pain close to her like it was her only lifeline in the storm of her disordered thoughts.

And as the voices grew in strength, she retreated into herself, clutching the pain like a lover, trusting it to bring her back. It always did.

Eventually.

* * *

 

By the time the storm died to a dull, drizzling rain and the seas settled back into a sullen swirl, Azula had beaten the voices back enough to think straight and to act.

She cleaned the wounds on her arms, noticing many of them for the first time. She didn't like to think of the times when she blanked out completely, lost in a haze so complete she barely knew she was alive, when thought was a memory and nothing could stir her from the nightmares that plagued her.

She cleaned the blood from her arms and from beneath her broken fingernails, shook her sleeves down to hide the worst of it, and picked up the empty water bucket, the dented tin ladle inside of it clanging dully on the banded wood. Cautiously, she poked her head out of the cabin, which she had not left in nearly a day, and crept out into the damp corridor.

She glanced at Sokka—Tazeo's—cabin across from hers, but the door was shut. Good. She wanted to avoid him as much as possible.

She made her way across the hold, where the smell of the pig-chickens still lingered, threading her way through some large crates marked 'fragile' in stark red letters. As she rounded the corner of one crate, she found herself face to face with members of the crew, who were sitting around playing dice in a small space between the crates.

They looked up as she came around the crate. There were four of them, and they had weather-beaten faces, blackened teeth, salt brined beards, and sun-bleached clothing that looked clean enough, but worn to bare threads. One of the men, she noticed, the blood draining from her face, had a neat little goatee that ended in a curl.

Azula took in a sharp breath as the man with the goatee pulled a twisted smile.

“Well, if it isn't our little good luck charm, finally making an appearance at last,” he drawled slowly, rattling the dice in his sun-browned fingers, eying her with nasty intention. She didn't like the way he was looking at her. It made her skin crawl.

It reminded her of...

_Fire._

_The damp smell of the earth as it enclosed her._

_Struggling._

_Violation._

_A baby screaming in pain._

_Ashes. Ashes on her eyelashes, on her tongue..._

_Regret._

Azula took a sharp breath, the bucket trembling in her fingers as she fought off the wave of memories with a pale determination.

“Excuse me?” she snapped at the sailor, who sucked on one of his rotten teeth, leering at her.

“It's bad luck, having a woman on board. Told the Captain that myself, but does he listen to old Jeiwang? No! And here we are, chasing a hurricane across this accursed sea, three days behind schedule, and the milk all bad. There's ghosts in these walls, you hear the metal moanin'? This rusted rig's likely to split we get another storm. All because we took on a fuckin' bleeder,” the sailor, Jeiwang, spat at her.

Azula's eyes narrowed. “ _What_ did you call me? How dare you—”

“How dare I?” Jeiwang said in a falsetto voice, putting his hand over his heart. “Listen to her, thinks she's Royalty and shit. Princess Skin and Bones over here lookin' like an omen of death.”

“Shut up!”

“Aww, miss, he don't mean nuthin' by it,” one of the other sailors laughed. “Jeiwang's superstitious. Won't even change his socks until we hit port.”

“It's bad luck!” Jeiwang grunted.

“Your feet smell like rotten eggs,” another sailor laughed and the other's joined in, even Jeiwang. Azula did not. As the laughter died down, Jeiwang glanced at her knowingly.

“Just who are you anyways? Cap doesn't normally take on passengers,” he said. “Not unless there's a lot of gold in it for him. Which means you're loaded, but if you're loaded, there's only one reason you booked passage on this heaping wreck. You're either a criminal or you're hiding from one. Which is it, pretty girl?”

“Both,” one of the sailors laughed.

“Did you see that big guy she boarded with? If he's not a murderer, I'll eat my hat,” another sailor said, glancing around nervously, as if Sokka—Tazeo, she reminded herself—was going to appear from between the crates and throttle him.

“If she's traveling with him, we ought to leave her be. I don't want to get on his bad side,” one of the sailors, the one with the goatee, mumbled.

Azula's brows lifted, watching the others nervously glance around as well, as if in agreement. It seemed that everyone on board had been avoiding Sokka, just as she had. She had her reasons, but it apparently Sokka had made himself such an intimidating presence on board that even hardened sailors wanted to steer clear of him.

Amusement flooded her. She hadn't thought that Sokka had had it in him to live up to the late Tazeo's reputation, but clearly he'd made an impression on these sailors.

Everyone but Jeiwang, it seemed. The sailor looked unconcerned. He was still watching Azula with that shrewd and calculating look on his face.

“So, a pair of criminals, are you?” he drawled. “Ought to report you to the harbor master when we make port. The Fire Nation Army might give me a reward...enough to get me off of this heap...”

“Try it, scum,” a rough voice said on Azula's left. She inhaled sharply as Sokka stepped into view. His tattooed arms were crossed over his chest and he was sneering at the group of gambling sailors with all the malevolence of a demon. His blue eyes were hard, bitter chips of ice beneath the long fall of his dark brown hair, the scrum of beard on his chin making him look somehow more dangerous than she'd ever thought possible.

He stepped up to Azula's side and put himself between her and the sailors.

“Oh-ho! So you _are_ wanted, then,” Jeiwang sneered. “I'm going to make me a tidy profit when we get into port and you two are going to cool your heels in a Fire Nation cell. Well, maybe not you, girlie. Pretty thing like you...well, maybe I'll just keep you, bad luck or no... Be like bedding a pile of bones though. I'll have to fatten you up properly to make a good bedwarmer out of you, but I bet you spread just fine.”

Rage slammed in her and she felt flames crowning beneath her skin, threatening to break free. She started to conjure fire into her shaking hands, but it was Sokka who moved first, crossing the space between himself and the sailors in a flash.

Jeiwang cried out as Sokka grabbed him by the throat and slammed him against one of the crates so hard the wood cracked. Snarling, he got into Jeiwang's face as the sailor choked, his face going purple instantly. The other sailors had drawn back, their fear of Sokka—Tazeo—greater than their loyalty to their friend.

“You speak to her like that again and I'll break your fucking neck,” Sokka said in a low voice that carried across the hold.

“Fuck...you...”

“You're not even allowed to look at her, you piece of shit,” Sokka whispered, inches from Jeiwang's face. “If you come anywhere near her, I'll toss you to the sharks piece by piece and then I'll kill your friends for fun. I'll slice open the throats of every man on this ship.”

“You...wouldn't.”

But Sokka laughed mirthlessly. “I've done far worse in my day than exterminating a few insignificant rats, and for far less than insulting my wife.”

_Wife? His WIFE?!_

Some of Azula's shock was evident in Jeiwang's face because he glanced at Azula and then, choking for air, spit flecking his blue lips, he said, “Didn't...know...wife...”

“None of your fucking business, was it? This is the only warning you're getting—any of you. Any of you fuckers so much as look at my property sideways, I'll cut off your dick and feed it to you, understand? I ought to kill you right now...” His hand squeezed even harder.

“Please...don't...” Jeiwang said, his eyes popping as he clawed at Sokka's hand on his throat.

“Apologize to the lady,” Sokka growled and shoved Jeiwang in Azula's direction. The sailor stumbled on the dice and money on the floor, catching himself on a crate as he coughed and clutched at his bruising throat.

“Sorry...didn't...mean...to... Sorry,” Jeiwang managed in a rough voice, though he was careful not to look up at her. All of the sailors were looking at their feet, avoiding even glancing in her direction.

Azula didn't say anything. She was watching Sokka, who had an ugly look on his face. “Pass it around. Any of you come anywhere near my wife and I'll put a knife in your back and if there's trouble at the docks when we arrive, I'll burn this ship to the ground. You do not want me as an enemy.”

None of them replied, just watched fearfully as Sokka carelessly shoved Jeiwang out of the way with one hand and approached Azula. Not meeting her eye, he took the bucket from her hands, caught her waist with his other hand and then guided her back in the direction of their cabins.

She had no idea why she let him steer her, but it wasn't until he had pushed her into her cramped cabin and closed the door behind them that she shook herself free of the shock that had stilled her tongue.

“WIFE?”

A change came over Sokka as the tough sneer left his face and he let out a breath, the tension running out of his spine. He sagged on the door in relief and then looked at her with a shrug and a small smile.

“Well...”

“WIFE?!”

“Keep it down.”

“I will not! I am _not_ your wife!”

“Thank the spirits for that,” he said sarcastically, his voice pitching low again. “You think I want to be married to you, either? It's just for pretend.”

“But why did you tell them that?” she hissed, jabbing her finger at the door and the hold beyond it.

“Because that sailor and his friends have been lurking outside your door every chance they get, waiting for you to come out, especially _that_ one. I've heard them talking.”

“They think I'm bad luck.”

“That's not all they think,” Sokka said darkly. “Look, I've been waiting for one of them to make a pass at you.”

“I can handle myself!”

“I know that, but this will make it easier.”

“How?”

“Because...” Sokka started and then stopped, his face a little red. “Because men like that have only one use for women, and they were just going to escalate things. Telling them you were my wife will put a stop to it. They're terrified of me, and they'll respect that...that...”

“That I'm your _property?_ ” she sneered, remembering what he'd said in the hold. “I am not an object and I don't appreciate--”

“I know you're not! I didn't say that because I believe it, I said it because they would! They're scum, Azula. They'll...well, some of the things they've been saying when they think I can't hear them... They might have hurt you.”

It was like someone had trickled cold water down her neck. She swallowed and felt a little faint, but that had nothing to do with the fact that she hadn't eaten in several days. Memories poured over her again. She dug her nails into scarred palms and swayed in place.

“They wouldn't dare.” But she knew that was a lie.

Sokka's face was dark. “Yes, they would, and I'd rather we avoid any incidents where I'd have to kill one of them.”

That snapped her out of her memories. She glared at him. “What's that supposed to mean? You weren't serious out there, surely?”

But Sokka's dark expression was unreadable and he said heavily, “I absolutely was, but I don't think we'll have to worry about that. The matter is taken care of... I don't want you to leave you cabin without me from now on, though.”

“I'm not--”

“I don't like it any more than you do,” he hissed and then lifted the bucket he had taken from her. “I'll get you some fresh water and some food, but--”

“I don't need—”

“Don't think I don't know you haven't been eating this entire time. I wasn't going to disturb you about it, but the sailor is right. You're skin and bones, Azula. If we're going to...do what we're doing...I can't have you passing out or something when I need you in a fight.”

“The storm's been making me seasick...I haven't been very hungry,” she said, as if to explain herself, though she didn't think she needed to. Who was he, to tell her what to do? To insult her?

“Yeah, well you look like you haven't had a good meal in a long while.”

“What do you care?”

Sokka flashed her a grin and opened the door. “Of course I care, honey. You're my wife, after all.”

He was already through the door by the time she found something to throw at him. Her shoe bounced off of the closed metal door and she scowled after it.

“Asshole.”

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	7. Six

****“Open up, darling, it's me,” Sokka said lightly after rapping on the outside of Azula's cabin door. The door immediately popped open a crack, revealing Azula's raging gaze and a heavy scowl. “Hello, lover.”

“Shut your fu--”

He cut her off, making her take a hasty step backward or get hit in the face with the door as he shouldered it open. He closed it behind him with a bang.

“I told you not to call me that, I--” she started, puffing up like a snake about to strike. He headed her off at the pass; she'd laid into him a few times the last couple of days of their journey across the seas and he knew the signs well enough. She'd been stewing.

“We're pulling into port. Are you packed?”

She looked startled by the news, perhaps because the journey had taken so much longer due to the rough seas, so that the normal few days trip had stretched into one long, stormy week. Even Sokka had begun to suspect that bad luck was following them onto the unknown shores of the Fire Nation.

He was hoping to avoid any more bad luck, however, by getting off of this ship as soon as they'd touched the docks. Jeiwang's threat of turning them in when they reached the Fire Nation, looking for a bounty, had not fallen on deaf ears, Sokka had a feeling Jeiwang was only biding his time.

He certainly didn't like that Jeiwang hadn't done anything else after Sokka had nearly strangled him to death. That meant the man was plotting something, and he'd be stupid not to take the man's threat seriously. He'd read Mai's dossier on Tazeo. The man had done some terrible things in the Fire Nation. There was probably a reward.

Since they were going covert on this mission, it wouldn't do to be arrested the minute they got into port. And it definitely wouldn't be good if anyone was alerted that the Princess of the Fire Nation was back.

“Are we rushing?” she drawled, even as she grabbed up a well-worn pack and slung it over one bony shoulder. She was already dressed, wearing a pale peach undershirt and a dark red vest and matching breeches, with heavy leather boots. Her hair was braided back into a long plait, thrown over one shoulder.

He was wearing Fire Nation clothing now too, a red, open vest a few shades darker than hers, with matching pants and pointed shoes. His undercut was still growing out and stubbly beneath his concealing hair, but the scrum of beard on his face was dark and prickly. The tattoos on his arms were dark against his brown skin.

“We're definitely not dawdling,” he said shortly, leading her out of the little cabin. “I don't trust Jeiwang not to make good on his threat to turn us in.”

“Not up to a fight? Typical,” she mumbled, but he swung on her, scowling as he glanced at the sooty scorch mark on the wall behind her. She'd thrown a fireball at him in a fit of rage last night, after he'd insisted she eat the bowl of soup he'd taken from the cramped galley. He hadn't really blamed her for turning her nose up at it. The cook on the ship ought to have been keelhauled for his crimes against food, but he had insisted she eat at least half of it.

The words “bastard” and “peasant” had been thrown at him, along with the fireball, but he'd stood his ground. Eventually Azula slurped the soup in one big gulp and then threw the half-empty bowl at him. He may have deserved it a little, but at least she wasn't going to pass out on him. And he'd thrown away the soup-covered shirt. The grease stains looked permanent.

“Could we leave the taunts to when we're on dry land, sweetums?” Sokka said through his teeth as Azula's eyes flashed and he saw a sneer curl her lips.

Her fiery retort stuttered out when they both felt the ship shudder beneath them, the engines slowing as they neared the port. Sokka grabbed his pack from where he'd left it, and together they crept up onto the deck.

Keeping well back against the wall, they spotted the docks as the helmsman swung the ship into a controlled and slow arch that would bring them alongside the docks. Workers on the docks were already preparing the guy lines to tie the ship to the heavy iron moors.

“So what's the plan?”

“Can you make the jump over the side the minute we get close?”

She made an offended noise and glanced sidelong at him. “ _Please_.”

“ _That's_ the girl I married,” he said. “So spirited.”

“I will murder you,” she hissed at him, but he just flashed her a mocking smile and then tightened his hold on his pack.

“Get ready. Hit the ground and keep running. We need to be as far away from this ship as possible, as soon as possible.”

The ship slowed, the massive propellors chugging water as they neared the dock. Just fifteen feet...ten feet...five feet....two feet...

“NOW!” Azula ground out and she was off, her feet pounding on the deck. She vaulted over the side as Sokka followed in her wake. He put one hand on the railing and jumped over, wheeling into space gracelessly, one hand on his pack to keep it from flying over his head.

He hit the deck with a jarring bang that vibrated up his muscular legs, but he rolled with the momentum, coming up on his feet after several revolutions across the slippery wooden planks. He gained his feet again, digging in as he caught sight of Azula's dark braid flying behind her; she was already ten feet ahead.

Hoisting his pack, he heard the sailors on the ship scream something after them, but didn't look back. His eyes were on Azula, tearing through the crowds on the docks. When his feet hit solid earth, he felt his knees wobble a little, adjusting to life on land after a week on a heavy sea. He skidded into an alley that Azula had disappeared into only moments before.

If he didn't know better, he would say that Azula was trying to lose him...

Leaping upended rubbish bins, he dug in, letting his powerful legs eat the ground between them. She was fast, but his legs were longer, covering twice the distance as hers. Within minutes, as they tore through the streets of the harbor town, from alley to alley, down wide avenues, past crowds and inns, and marketplaces alive with commerce and conversation, he chased Azula until she skidded into another alley.

He caught her by the arm without thinking. Wheeling her around, he found himself dodging a handful of flames. He wasn't exactly shocked, but he hadn't expected it. He dodged the fireball, which burst upon the bricks behind him as Azula, gasping, sweat running down her temples, wrenched her arm free of his grip.

“Don't touch me!”

“I think we're safe!” he panted, though he didn't seem as out of breath as she was. She looked pale all of a sudden, her eyes wide and rolling in their sockets. “We're nearly on the edge of town, there's no way--”

“You put your hand on me again and I'll kill you!” Azula snarled, slamming one hand into the center of his chest and pushing him back against the sooty, hot brick wall. Flames bloomed in her other hand, which shook as she trembled in front of him. “I'll kill you. I'll kill you. I'll kill you!”

Sokka put up his hands in surrender, staring down into her white face and the blank terror in her gaze. It was the same look she'd had on her face in his office, when he'd pinned her down.

“Okay, I won't! I'm sorry...” he said hastily and then took a deep breath. “Hey, calm down, okay? _Azula_.”

But she didn't seem to be seeing him; her gaze was distant, the trembles wracking her frame were making her teeth chatter. A wave of cold nausea crept over him as he saw the fear in her eyes.

Whatever she was seeing, he didn't think it was him.

“Azula? It's me, it's Sokka,” he said in a soothing voice he'd heard Katara use a time or two, but had never quite mastered. Where was his sister now? She was so good at this kind of thing. “Hey, look at me, look at me. Azula...come back to me...”

Something in her gaze changed, became present again. “Sokka?”

He managed a nervous smile. “That's me. Are you with me?”

She glanced at the hand pinning him to the wall and then at the flames dancing madly above her palm, as if she was only now becoming aware of her limbs.

With a wet swallow, she banished the flames and stepped back, licking her lips. “I...”

“I shouldn't have grabbed your arm, I'm sorry. It was my fault,” he said heavily, pushing away from the wall and picking up the pack that had slipped off of his arm. He swung it across his shoulder again and looked down at her. “I promise, I won't touch you again. I'm sorry.”

He tried to put a lot of things into that promise, but he didn't know if she was present enough to pick them up. It was important that he let her know, though, that he understood. Or at least, that he thought he did. That he was trying to.

Azula met his gaze for a long moment and then lifted her chin. “You shouldn't call yourself Sokka. What if someone overheard you, you absolute moron?”

He was a little taken aback by her abrupt turn around, but just nodded. “I'll try not to do it again.”

“See that you don't,” she snapped. “Typical of Mai to saddle me with the dimmest idiot available...”

He didn't reply. At least if she was insulting him she was getting back to normal.

Perhaps normal wasn't the word for it. Azula was ill. He'd always known that, had seen it first hand, but never this close up. It wasn't anger, or exasperation he felt. It felt like pity.

As abrasive as he found her, something in him stirred, a strange protective feeling that bewildered him, but which he'd felt before, in his office as she'd huddled in a corner, panicked and shaking.

It was the same protective instinct that had set his teeth on edge when he'd overheard the sailors making lewd comments about her. He didn't like her—could barely stand her, in fact—but he knew, as he followed Azula down the alley toward their destination, that he'd give anything to take that terror out of her eyes, even for a moment.

It was a strange feeling, and one he didn't want to examine.

It didn't take them long to find the inn on the edge of town where Mai had told them their first Smoke Demons contact would be meeting them in less than a day's time. At least the delay in reaching the Fire Nation meant that they would not have to linger in the harbor town for too long, waiting for their contact to arrive.

There was still the chance that Jeiwang had alerted the authorities, and that they'd come searching the inn eventually. They'd just have to make sure they were off doing whatever terrible thing the Smoke Demons would demand of them before that happened.

The inn itself was large, more of a hotel by the size of it. It was crowded and clean, with good food served hot in the massive common room, and a boisterous atmosphere that inspired whispered conversations in the corners. No one paid them any attention, although the middle-aged innkeeper eyed Sokka with an appraising glint in her eye the moment he approached the front desk just off the entrance.

“We don't want any trouble in here,” she said shortly, the corners of her lined mouth pulling down.

“Then don't make any trouble,” he sneered back at her, fingering the dagger on his belt.

“You'll have to forgive my...husband,” Azula said a voice that was steady and cold. “He never learned manners. There won't be any trouble, I assure you. We're on our honeymoon.”

Sokka was too busy maintaining his scowl to glance at Azula, amusement running through him all of a sudden. He didn't think Azula realized what she had just done, but he knew that she was about to find out.

The innkeeper softened at that, a smile curling her lips. “Ahh, well, that's an ostrich-horse of a different color, isn't it? And what luck, the only room we have available is our honeymoon suite. It has a queen-sized bed and an extra large bathing tub. Champagne and rose petals on the bed are also included in the price.”

Azula's smile froze as the woman reached for the only key left on the empty wall of numbered hooks behind her. She glanced at Sokka, as if for help, but he scowled straight ahead, trying not to laugh.

“Oh...well... We don't need the honeymoon suite, just a simple room. TWO ROOMS!” she said, in a panicked voice.

The woman turned back to face Azula, the key in her fingers, confusion drawing her brows down low. “Two rooms? I thought you were on your honeymoon?”

“Uhh...”

“I snore,” Sokka grunted after a long, awkward moment, glancing at Azula beside him. Stunned though she was, she was quick to follow his lead.

“Like a thundering moose-lion,” Azula said. “I'm not used to it yet.”

The woman nodded, looking doubtful. “Well, I'm afraid we're all booked up. The honeymoon suite is the only room available at the moment.”

“We'll take it,” Sokka said shortly, handing her a tidy roll of Yuans. “And we don't want to be disturbed while we're here. No servants.”

“We do a turn down service,” the woman started, but Sokka took the key from her.

“No need. We won't be leaving the bed,” he said and let a sly expression cross his face. The innkeeper bowed her head.

“Of course. We also offer room service for a reasonable fee, for those disinclined to eat in our common room. You have only to ring for one of our stewards,” she said and gestured for the young man hovering just behind them. He started to take their packs but Sokka glared at him and the young man nervously gestured toward the stairs instead.

It didn't take long before they were ensconced in the honeymoon suite, the young man pocketing the gold coin Azula had thrust at him after he'd shown them the highlights of the clean and lushly appointed room.

The walls were a romantic red, trimmed in gold leaf, with a large, silk-covered bed that was draped in gauzy red hangings. The bed looked sinful, and far too inviting, like sleeping on a cloud.

Or maybe that was just his sore back talking. The little bunks on the ship had been cramped and lumpy and smelled strongly of body odor, and when the sea hadn't been rolling them around like marbles in a tin can, he'd been hard-pressed to get comfortable enough to sleep. The big beautiful bed looked like heaven after a week of that.

As soon as the door closed behind the steward, Azula wheeled on him, tossing her pack into an overstuffed chair embroidered with roses.

“You see where your stupid marriage charade has landed us?” she hissed at him.

“ _My_ charade? _I_ didn't tell you to tell the innkeeper we were married. That was just for the sailors. I didn't know you were going to run with it.”

Azula's mouth snapped closed as she saw the amusement dancing in his gaze.

“I... I didn't think...” she stuttered and then scowled. “We had two rooms on the ship and no one said anything!”

“Because they were afraid of me. Listen, if it bothers you, we can get a divorce once the honeymoon is over,” he said with a laugh, which she didn't share.

“You think this is funny, do you?”

“Hilarious, actually,” he said. “Besides, it's the perfect cover. There's no way you'd be traveling with someone like Tazeo unless you had a reason. Marriage explains a lot.”

“I would _never_ marry someone like Tazeo,” Azula said in a haunted voice that tread somewhere close to her episode in the alley less than an hour ago. She still hadn't lost the shadowed look in her eyes.

Sokka immediately wished he hadn't said anything, but instead, he just shrugged. “Fine, after we leave the inn consider us divorced. It's a good thing too, pretty sure Suki would kill me if I fake married another woman.”

But that just made pain stab through his guts. He realized with a start that now that he was in the Fire Nation, he would have to find a way to write her a letter, to explain his absence. It wouldn't be long before she noticed that he hadn't written to her as usual.

Pushing that thought aside, he focused on Azula, who was crossing her arms over her chest. “Yes, well, I believe she has other worries than _you._ ”

“She and Zuko aren't--” he said through his teeth, but she waved him off.

“I meant guarding my dear brother from assassins and the like, but my, aren't _you_ quick to jump to conclusions? Worried, are we?” she drawled with a flash of her eyes, and some of the pity he'd been feeling leaked away.

“You know, I don't think this is going to be a happy marriage,” he said flatly.

“Oh, I don't know, _darling_ ,” Azula said. “I think married life is starting to agree with me. Why don't you be a dear and fetch me some dinner while I take a nice, hot bath?”

“I'm your fake husband, not your slave.”

“Same thing,” she said airily.

“Spirits help the man who really does marry you,” he said with a derisive snort. “That poor bastard won't know what hit him.”

“Probably something heavy. And on fire,” she said and he actually laughed at that, taken off guard by the flash of humor he had so rarely glimpsed in her.

“I forsee a lot of nights on the couch for that poor bastard,” he chuckled.

“Better the couch than the floor.”

“The floor?” he said stupidly.

“Just where did you think you were sleeping tonight?” Azula snapped, and then sailed into the bathing room, slamming the door behind her before he could reply.

He glanced at the big bed, realization dawning on him. His laugh petered out as he dropped his pack at his feet with a dull thud on the hard and unforgiving floor.

“Fuck.”

 


	8. Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: SELF-HARM

****“ _You're awake,” a kind voice said as Azula sat up with a start. She immediately groaned, clutching broken ribs, her whole body bruised, aching, and weak. She was acutely aware of pain between her legs, like a searing burn, but could not account for it. “I was beginning to worry.”_

“ _Where am I? Who are you?” she demanded as the woman smiled at her from the doorway of what looked like a trader's wagon. She could just barely see the shaded, green-tinted bows of the forest beyond the woman's shoulder._

“ _I am Qingge and this is my wagon. I am a trader, part of a caravan of merchants who travels the Earth Kingdom to trade our wares. We... We found you at the side of the road...covered in dirt... You were...attacked.”_

_Azula looked around the woman's cramped little wagon. It was part living space, part music shop. A brightly painted dresser and shelves that held all manner of things lined the walls—food, spices, clothing, and most of all, musical instruments. Erhus, dizis, pipa lutes, suonas, shamisens, and tsungi horns hung from so many hooks that standing in the small space meant weaving through an obstacle course of swaying instruments. There was a bunk bed against the back wall; Azula was sitting upright on the bottom bunk._

_She touched her head, and felt bandages stiff with blood beneath her shaking hands._

“ _Attacked?”_

“ _Yes... We... We've heard rumors of bandits in these woods, attacking travelers. We'd hoped that they were only rumors. This is the only road through the forest, if we have to go around it will take weeks to get to Ba Sing Se...” the woman said and then stopped herself, looking at Azula with kind eyes. “But we're a very large group, I'm sure they won't bother us. What's important is that we found you. You've been asleep for several days. You have a bad concussion, and I had to stitch up a rather large gash on the back of your head, but I think you'll be fine. There was also...”_

_The woman hesitated as she stepped forward, wringing her hands, slightly._

“ _What?”_

“ _You were... Your clothing...” Qingge started, but stopped again. “I...”_

“ _What is it?”_

“ _Do you remember what happened to you?”_

_Azula closed her eyes, trying to remember, but there was nothing. Just pain, panic, the dark stifling smell of dirt as it roiled over her like a living thing...laughter...rough hands..._

_Cold sweat broke out on her ripped and torn skin as she felt a shiver course over her. She pulled what turned out to be a patched, ragged green silk robe around her to ward off the sudden chill. She looked down at the robe; she didn't recognize it. The woman had dressed her in it at some point._

_She felt oddly touched, despite everything, despite her confusion, and her sluggish memory and the mysterious aches and pains in her body._

“ _I don't remember,” she whispered, but she wasn't sure if that was true or not. She had a feeling she didn't_ want _to remember. Remembering what had happened was dangerous._

“ _Well, no matter,” Qingge said bracingly. “You're safe now. You look half-starved. I have stew and rice ready, if you're up to eating.”_

“ _Yes...thank you...” Azula mumbled and watched the merchant turn on her heel and walk back toward the narrow door at the back of the wagon. The moment she turned around, Azula saw that Qingge had a baby strapped to her back. The child, no more than six months old, was sleeping soundly from within its fur-lined pack. It had a shock of thick black hair._

_As Qingge stepped down the steps and into the green-tinted sunlight, the baby woke with a lusty cry, its shrieks splitting the air._

_The scream went on and on, piercing, never-ending, swelling and crashing until there was nothing but pain and sound, and rising like a tidal wave, the flames. The flames, the endless flames, licking and eating and burning as the wagon went up with a hot_ whoosh! _,_ the _cheery yellow and green paint blistering and flaking, turning black. A_ _ll was death and regret..._ _hellfire, damnation..._ _And still the scream went on..._

“AZULA? AZULA! _AZULA!?_ COME BACK TO ME!! IT'S A DREAM! IT'S ONLY A DREAM! AZULA!”

_She was made of fire, burning, covered in ash, her bare feet crunching on blackened bone...slipping on charred meat... The scream was all around her, inside of her... The ghosts whispered to her, caressed her, cradled her face, urging her to stoke the flames, higher, higher, higher..._

Something wet and ice cold drenched her, shocking her awake as she choked on the scream that had been ripping out of her. Azula sat upright in the wet bed, gasping, shaking, aware of the smell of scorched sheets, water dripping down her face.

A dark figure fumbled with the gas lantern on the wall, and seconds later the unfamiliar room was flooded with light. She found herself meeting Sokka's shocked gaze. There was a water jug in his left hand, still dripping onto the wooden floor at his bare feet. But she didn't understand, couldn't fathom where she was, or why Sokka was standing there, covered in tattoos, which trailed over his muscular body like the darkest flames...

“They're coming,” she said and felt panic grip her again. She shuddered and lifted her hands, flames blooming with a hot pop at each of her fingertips. “ _They're coming!_ ”

“Who's coming, Azula?”

“They're coming!” she said as tears spilled down her cheeks. “I can't stop it. It'll just keep screaming. Why won't it die already?” Her voice broke, horror ricocheting through her.

The horror and fear in Sokka's face seemed to ease as he stepped forward. He put the jug down on the end of the bed and approached her, one hand out. She saw his hand, and drew back from it in revulsion.

Sokka drew back immediately, as if she'd shocked him. “Damn, sorry... I forgot... I won't touch you, okay? But I need you to calm down and put away the flames. You were having a nightmare. You were screaming. Whatever you're seeing right now...whatever you're... Whatever you're _remembering_ , it's not happening now, okay? It's not real. Listen to me, Azula, it's not real. It was a dream. No one's coming... I promise, you're safe...”

Reality flooded back to her, the nightmare bursting like a soap bubble as another wrenching sob shook her body. She focused on the sound of Sokka's voice, the firm but gentle insistence, the steady and unshakeable realness of it.

She looked up and met his blue gaze, holding it like a lifeline, the only thread of reality she had, even as shame and anger reared up in her. She closed her fingers, banishing the protective flames she had conjured. She looked away from his eyes after a long moment, glancing down at the drenched bed.

“You threw water on me?”

“You were burning the bed, and I couldn't get you to wake up, or stop screaming,” Sokka said in a voice that was wary but concerned. His concern grated on her. She was ashamed and angry that he had witnessed one of her night terrors. It was bad enough that he had been witness to two of her panic attacks already, but now _this_...

She felt sick to her stomach as she looked down at the scorched sheets. “I didn't need your help. It was simply a nightmare.”

Sokka stood upright immediately, his hands fisting at his sides. “How often do you have these nightmares?”

“That's none of your business and I assure you, I'll never bother you with them again! If we hadn't been forced to share this room--” she started, gesturing to his nest of blankets on the floor near the door. They had gone to sleep without speaking to one another, although she had lain awake listening to his gentle breathing for more than an hour before she had slipped uneasily into sleep.

“Who did you think was coming?”

Azula snarled like an angry cat, flipping wet hair out of her face as she shoved the sodden blankets off of her legs and threw them over the side of the bed. Her legs wobbled and threatened not to take her weight. Seeing her sway, Sokka darted forward, but stopped as she whipped on him, one hand out.

“Don't you _dare_ touch me, you peasant!” she screeched, the sleeves of her patched and scorched silk robe falling back to her elbow.

He lifted his hands, palms out, as he had in the alley earlier that day, when she'd found herself in another panic attack. She could still feel the waves of terror coming over her as she'd felt his hand on her wrist. She had been running...running from the sailors..but she'd heard voices, whispers...laughter that promised pain... It had scared, made her flee, forgetting for a moment that Sokka was following her...that he meant her no harm...

“Azula...” he started gently, but there was pity in his eyes.

He _pitied_ her.

Her anger overwhelmed everything else, her shame, her terror, her panic, the memories that she had been unable to keep at bay in her dreams. He stepped forward a little and then stopped as his gaze flicked to her bared forearm. Shock and alarm showed in his wide eyes.

“What happened to you?” he started, even as she followed his gaze, realizing as she did that her arm was exposed, along with the slashes that crosshatched her pale skin, some of them healed to shiny pink lines, others red and raw and angry.

She whipped her hand down, her sleeve falling down to hide the cuts—yet another shame—and she backed up a step.

“Nothing.”

“Azula...”

“ _Leave_.”

“What?”

“Leave! This was a mistake, I told Mai! I told her that I didn't need you here! I don't need _anyone!_ So leave!” she snarled, her voice shaking. “LEAVE! I DON'T NEED YOU!”

The concern and pity in his eyes dropped instantly, replaced by anger and a narrow-eyed dislike that was unmistakable.

“You think I wanted to drop my life and pretend to be a dead man just to help your crazy ass out?” Sokka snarled at her in a voice that was dripping with venom. “Not likely.”

“I'm not crazy,” she said.

“Oh yeah, you're the picture of mental health, Azula,” he said, gesturing to the scorched bed.

Her chest felt tight, as hot anger filled her. She wasn't crazy...she wasn't... How dare he?

“The only reason Mai went to you for help is because no one really needs you. You're nothing but a useless, insipid _drunk_ and everyone knows it _._ No one is going to miss you if you disappear for six months.”

Sokka tilted his head back, his jaw working, white streaks on his stubbled cheeks. His eyes were like ice chips, merciless, all pity gone.

“Then we have something in common, at last. No one missed _you_ for three years. We all hoped you'd killed yourself a long time ago. That'd make it easier for everyone...but here you are... Crazy as a shithouse rat. Your own family doesn't even want you. Who would?”

“Don't you dare speak to me like that! I'm still royalty, I--”

“Shove your title up your ass, you crazy bitch!”

“FUCK YOU!” Azula burst out.

“FUCK _YOU_ _!_ ” Sokka snarled, jabbing a finger at her and then looked around the lantern-lit honeymoon suite. “Fuck this. I don't have to take this. I've been trying to be understanding... I felt _sorry_ for you... But... You're not even worth it.”

And he turned on his heel, seized his pack and slung it over his bare shoulder. He grabbed his shoes, but didn't bother pulling them on as he strode straight to the door.

“Where are you going?” she said, starting forward, but stopped herself.

“I'm just following your orders, _your Highness_ ,” Sokka said over her shoulder, sneering the words like an insult. “Have a nice life, _your Majesty_. Go fuck yourself, _Princess_.”

And with that, he strode out the door, slamming it behind him with a deafening, window-rattling crash. She flinched as she heard voices in the hall; their argument hadn't gone unnoticed, despite the late hour. The whole inn had probably heard them screaming. Had probably heard her screaming in her sleep.

She stood there beside the smoldering bed, shaking, anger flooding her brain in hot waves. She put a shaking hand on her forehead.

 _Who does he think he is?_ She thought as she shook, feeling hot and cold at the same time, her damp hair clinging to her sweaty face. _I don't need him. I've never needed anyone. I can do this alone._

Something in her broke, and with a sob, she reached for her pack, groping blindly, desperately, instinct driving her, a deep need that would not be satisfied until it was given a sacrifice. With shaking hands she pulled out the thin-bladed knife and shook back her sleeve.

“I don't need him,” she said through her teeth, pulling the blade across her forearm. Pain, sharp and hot zipped through her skin. “I don't need him.”

Again she cut.

“I don't need him.”

Again.

“I don't need him.”

Again.

“I don't need him.”

Hot tears fell down her cheeks as blood ran down her forearm. She clung to the pain, enduring it as the blade sliced again and again, until she could no longer take it. She lifted her chin, mouth open in a shallow pant, feeling in control for the first time in days. She could make the pain stop, if she wanted... That was one thing she could do, the only thing that she controlled...

The knife was slippery with hot blood as she dropped it, her knees giving at the same time.

Azula sat there staring at the blood coating her arm, pain throbbing through her skin with an almost orgasmic thrill. She wiped at the tears in her eyes and took a steadying breath.

“ _I don't need him._ ”

 


	9. Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: Rape Mention

****It was incredibly late, but the inn's common room was still half-full of late night revelers, spilling the warm glow of firelight and drunken voices across the inn. Scowling, Sokka padded barefoot into the room and threw himself down onto the nearest bench.

His blood was hot and thundering in his ears, his heart racing like a swollen river. Anger coursed through him, but beneath it was...

Worry. Regret.

Both emotions just made him angrier. Sitting, he slung his bare foot across his knee and started jamming his boot on, taking out his bad mood on the dark red leather. Vague plans filled his mind as the drunken revelers near the large hearth broke into a loud song about a lusty maid and a fire sage, complete with lewd hand gestures that sent all of the singers into peals of raucous laughter.

It was stupid, he thought sourly as he laced up his boot, for anyone to expect the two of them to travel together. They couldn't stand one another, after all. What had Mai been thinking? Azula was impossible—hard-headed, cold, evil...

 _And sick_ , a soft voice said in the back of his mind. _She's sick. Mentally...emotionally... Of course she's not rational. Why are you expecting her to be?_

He didn't like that voice. It was laced with pity, with that same worry that was angering him so much. He had felt that pity and worry in him back in the room, watching Azula thrashing in the bed, screaming. Some of her screams had been unintelligible, but some of it...

Shame burned in his guts as he dropped his other foot onto the floor and reached for his pack.

She had looked so scared, so small in that big bed, even as her fear had sparked blazes on the bedding around her. He had been afraid to touch her, afraid that waking up with a strange man's hands on her would make it all that much worse. The burning bed had made up his mind. She had shocked awake in a wash of water from the bedside jug, but waking her up hadn't helped.

She had been scared...lost somewhere in memories...

What had happened to her? What could have happened to Azula, Crown Princess of the Fire Nation, a woman who had scared the living daylights out of him when he was a teenager? Now she scared him for a completely different reason.

He put his hand on his pack and glanced at the door. He could walk away right now. Just leave. Cut his hair, shave his face, wash off the tattoos, and abandon the skin of the dead man that he'd been pretending to be. He could leave her.

Broken, scared, sick...facing circumstances that would probably kill her, that were probably, if Mai was to be believed, _designed_ to kill her. The Smoke Demons were using Azula, and how long before they had what they wanted from her? How long before they got rid of her? Who would protect her then?

Sokka hung his head, letting go of his pack. He took a steady breath.

If he walked away, he'd never forgive himself and he knew it. Tazeo was the kind of man who would abandon her, but he _wasn't_ Tazeo, try as he had to become him. He had too much of his sister in him, and as much as Katara disliked Azula, he knew that Katara wouldn't walk away. Not when someone needed his help.

And then there was Zuko...

If he left, who knew if Azula would be able to find out what the Smoke Demons had planned for Zuko. Who knew if that would put Suki into even more danger? If he left he was no better than a coward.

“Dammit,” he snarled as a server walked by. He looked up and caught her attention, fishing into his pack and pulling out a gold piece, handing it over when she brought over a foaming mug of beer. She took the coin and smiled at him, batting her eyelashes.

“Can I get you anything else, handsome?”

He thought a moment, and then passed her more coin. “Keep them coming.”

“Of course, hon,” she said, but he ignored her.

He turned away and took a long drink. He sank into his dark thoughts as the beer in the glass slowly drained to the foamy dregs. The serving girl didn't disappoint, sweeping in the minute his mug was empty, replacing it with a full one. He could tell she was trying to catch his eye, but he ignored her.

He didn't want to do anything but get drunk tonight.

Get drunk and think about things he didn't want to think about. The beer was good at least, much better than some of the piss they served back in Republic City. Not that that had ever stopped him.

Thinking of Republic City made his guts tighten. He glanced up at the ceiling, as if he could see Azula through the intervening floors. He wondered what she was doing up there. Was she packing to leave? Had she gone back to sleep? Was she...?

He drained another glass and grabbed the new one that appeared at his elbow like magic. He slipped another coin to the side—a tip for the service. After five beers the girl seemed to take the hint that he wasn't going to flirt back with her, and silently served him, almost a ghost.

He forced his thoughts away from Azula, wondering what was going on over in Republic City. He could almost bet that Katara was as sleepless as he was; she tended to worry herself to knots, especially when she couldn't do something to help. Aang was probably using every bit of his cunning and patience keeping his wife from going out of her skin. And Toph...

Thinking of Toph soured his mood even further. He missed his best friend, but their last conversation on the docks before they'd boarded the ship to the Fire Nation had been disturbing him for some time.

He and Toph had spoken at length about Azula. And it hadn't been a happy conversation. Toph, who had been observing Azula from afar while they'd been preparing to leave, had not liked what she'd seen at all.

And she had said the one thing Sokka hadn't wanted to hear.

* * *

 

_A week earlier..._

Toph caught his arm as Sokka walked by, her grip vise-like. There was anger marring her brow, and burrowing into the corners of her mouth.

“Something happened to her,” Toph said, her voice shaking with emotion as she pitched it down so that no one else on the docks could hear.

“What?”

“Azula. Something happened to her.”

“Yeah, she's wolf-bat shit cra--”

“Not that. This is something else, and you know it,” Toph said. “She was unstable before, but she wasn't hurting like she's hurting now. I've seen this before, and so have you.”

Sokka felt a lump forming in his throat and glanced around to see Azula waiting by the dock, her arms crossed over her chest. She appeared to be staring at the fog-shrouded bay, but he had a feeling she was watching all of them. Warily. Like a cornered animal. That same strange energy he'd noticed in his office could be seen in the way she held her head, in the flick of her eyes, the rounding of her shoulders. As if she wanted to make herself disappear.

It was so unlike the Azula he'd known. The hard, demanding young woman who walked into a room and owned it within seconds by the sheer force of her personality and her iron will. Even in her most unhinged, she'd still had that presence about her, that force that had intimidated and awed him even as he'd resented it.

Now she was something different. A proud creature laid low by some mysterious malady.

Except he'd seen this before and it was no mystery. He'd recognized it in his office, and he knew he hadn't been wrong then. The fact that Toph had picked up on it as well didn't particularly make him happy, but at least it confirmed that he hadn't been wrong.

“The tenement camps,” he said grimly, as Toph nodded. Sokka blew out a breath and ran his hand down his face. “Shit. Are you sure? I thought so too, but I was hoping...”

“I've experienced enough on this damned job to know the signs, Sokka,” Toph said, her voice heavy. “It's not all beating up bad guys and righting wrongs. Sometimes it's dealing with some truly nasty shit. And feeling entirely useless.”

“She had a panic attack in my office when I held her down.” Just saying it made his stomach clench into knots. The immediate feeling of shame that had come over him hadn't gone away. In fact, Toph's assessment had just made it that much worse. “If I'd known, I wouldn't have... She was attacking me, or I thought she was. That triggered it.”

“What happened?”

“She freaked out. Begged me to stop. I've never seen her so scared in my life. She was just... She went away. She started clawing at her face. I got the feeling that wasn't the first time. Mai has seen it before too. What am I dealing with, Toph?” he asked heavily. He had a feeling he'd just been pulled into a situation that he might not be able to handle.

“I don't know,” Toph admitted, shaking her head. “Just...be careful with her.”

“With Azula? She's almost as tough as you.”

“You'd be surprised at what can break a person. Someone like Azula, who prides herself on being in control, in charge... If I'm right, then she had that control ripped away from her, Sokka. I may not know her well, but I know enough to know that she probably fought like hell to stop it. And it still happened. She's been through the worst thing I can think of. She wasn't stable before, but I'll bet the panic attacks started after... After _that._ ”

He felt physically ill as he watched Azula standing on the fog shrouded dock. She turned her head and caught his gaze for one long moment, but he couldn't hold it and looked away.

“Are you sure?”

Toph shrugged. “No.”

Sokka ran a hand down his face. “Great. I have to infiltrate a terrorist cell pretending to be a dead man, all while dealing with a partner with serious mental health issues who hates my fucking guts. I need a fucking drink.”

“You drink too much,” Toph said grimly, with no hint of humor.

“No, I don't!”

“Oh?” she said archly, reaching into the side of his bag and pulling out a flask.

“Medicinal purposes.”

“Right,” Toph bit, stashing it in her coat. “You need to be sharp out there, Sokka. Watch out for her, and for whatever these goddamned Smoke Demons are planning. I wish I could go with you.”

“The famous Beifong? Please, we'd be outed within five minutes.”

“I can't help it I'm unforgettable,” she said, her humor returning with a quirk of her lips, but then it dropped again. “Be careful with her...seriously. You remember what it was like in the tenement camps. What that bastard's victims were like...”

“Hard to forget,” he whispered, feeling ill. He glanced at Azula again. “What do I do?”

Toph shrugged. “I don't know. Just...try and understand. I know she's a bitch...but...”

“But this is different.”

“Yeah. Don't get killed out there,” Toph said, and punched his arm. He winced at the force of it, but grinned a little.

“I can handle the terrorists. It's Azula that scares me.”

“That's just common sense,” Toph pointed out.

“Seems I do have some, after all.”

“Stranger things have happened. Who knows...maybe you'll fall in love with her? Have a torrid romance...become her devoted slave?”

Sokka groaned and pushed Toph in the shoulder. “Nothing that strange has _ever_ happened, Toph, and it never will.”

* * *

 

_The Present..._

Sokka shook his head, staring into the amber depths of his drink, feeling sour and guilty. Toph's words echoed in his skull. He wanted to ignore them. He wanted to ignore everything, but he couldn't.

Someone had raped Azula.

He had known it, instinctively, in his office when he'd held her down and she'd flown into a panic attack. Her reaction—the look of horror in her eyes—had been all too familiar to him. Hadn't he seen that same look in a half-dozen eyes in the tenement camps? He had learned first hand the violence that could put that kind of look into a woman's eyes...and it had haunted him ever since.

Three years ago, a serial rapist had preyed upon the tenement camps outside of Republic City. The city had grown too fast in too short a time—there wasn't enough housing for everyone. Tenement camps had sprung up around the outskirts of the city while buildings went up up to house them. The whole city seemed to swell and grow overnight.

The tenement camps were crowded, dirty and a public nuisance. Toph and her police force tried to patrol the sprawling, mud-filled tent cities, but they were stretched thin. Diseases ran rampant. Petty thievery was a daily occurrence. And occasionally, a deal went bad. Someone ended up in the river, dead, their throat slit, or their tent burned down.

Mostly those were isolated incidents. Toph had caught most of the perpetrators, but there was no way to keep the camps completely safe.

The first girl was attacked in early spring. She had gone down to the river to fetch some water for her mother when a man had come out of the bushes...and dragged her into the trees. There he had forced himself on her. She had fought back, but he'd ripped out huge hunks of her hair. He hadn't killed her, but he had hurt her. Badly.

The next woman was attacked two weeks later, in her own tent. No one had heard her cries. The man had ripped out her hair as well, and left bite marks on the woman's skin.

Toph had brought the woman to Katara, who had healed the bite marks...but there was no water magic enough to heal the damage that had been done to her. She had cried all night in Katara's arms.

The second attack had put the city on edge. Toph had increased patrols in the camps.

A third woman fell victim just as the first heat of summer came to the city. The girl had been no more than eighteen. She too, had been taken in her own tent, this time while her family was out shopping. Like the other two women, she had been violated, and her hair had been ripped out in great handfuls. Unlike the other two women, however, she had gotten a good look at the man who had raped her.

That was when Sokka, who had been following Toph's investigation with increasing concern, had gotten directly involved. The girl was from the Water Tribe. As the Water Tribe representative on the City Council, it had been his duty to reassure her that they would do everything they could for her. Except there hadn't been much that he could do.

He had never felt so useless in his life. So disgusted. So heartsick.

He could still remember the horror in the girls' eyes. The emptiness. The flinch as he'd started to take her hand, to reassure her. And then the panic attack, when the sketch artist Toph had brought with her had finished his drawing of the attacker.

Seeing the man—her rapist—had sent the girl spiraling into a panic attack. Fear, horror... Sokka had been sick to his stomach, watching the girls' mother calm her. He had sworn that they would find the man who had hurt her. Sworn that no other girl would have to live through that nightmare.

The case had become an obsession for him. He had visited the other two women. Again, he had seen the fear, the horror, the haunted looks in their eyes...and he had known that he would never forget it.

Toph hauled in suspect after suspect—anyone who fit the description—but still the attacks continued. The fourth and fifth victims came within days of one another.

The camps and the city were struck with fear. The rapist was everywhere and nowhere at once. Women didn't go anywhere alone. The police patrolled the camps twenty-four hours a day. Checkpoints were set up. The police went tent to tent, searching for anyone who matched the rapist's description. And still, he had not been caught.

Summer faded into fall. Eventually, people started to speculate that the rapist had moved on, that the police had scared him out of the camps and far away from the city.

Both Toph and Sokka thought differently. Late at night, over beer and bad food, they had pored over the case files. They had a lot of theories. Sokka was sure that the rapist didn't live in the camps at all and hadn't come back to attack anyone else because of the check points. Toph agreed, but also thought that the rapist may have moved on. Sokka wasn't so sure.

By the time the leaves started to turn yellow, and the crisp bite of autumn could be felt in the air, the city and the camps had started to put the attacks behind them. But not Sokka.

And not the rapist's victims. Sokka had visited them all, one by one, with Toph at his side. Toph had brought a professional with her, someone to help the women talk through what had happened to them. He didn't know if it helped or not, but he hoped it would.

The last attack came days after Toph was forced by the council (against Sokka's vote) to end the police checkpoints. The woman had been attacked in the same place as the first victim, down near the river.

Unlike the other five women, however, this woman had been Bender.

The man hadn't done much more than grab at the woman's hair, and ripped her blouse, but that had been enough. He'd surprised her, but her surprise hadn't lasted long. The Earthbender had hurled huge boulders at him, broken both his arms, his left leg, several ribs, and then put a boulder right on his chest, pinning him to the ground in a sad, bloody pile while she'd called for help.

Sokka had been right. The man hadn't been living in the camps. He lived in the Dragon Flats Borough, and worked at one of the new factories in the industrial section. He had grown a beard to disguise himself once the sketch got out. No one had connected him with the attacks; no one at his work had ever suspected him.

The rapist had spread fear and terror and pain throughout Republic City. He had destroyed the lives of five innocent women, and had nearly done the same to a sixth. He was not a remarkable man. He was soft spoken, quiet. He knew how to blend in with a crowd. He was not a particularly large man, but he had been so sure that he could overpower any woman he wanted...that they were weaker than he was...that he could do whatever he wanted...

That they owed him their bodies.

Sokka had watched Toph interrogating him from the man's hospital bed. He had wanted to strangle the bastard. He had wanted that man to hurt like those women had hurt. Like they were still hurting, and would always hurt. He had wanted to make him pay.

What had possessed him? Made him think that he could do the terrible things he had done? Why had he done them? What evil lurked in his heart...and how could Sokka recognize that evil again, if he ever came face to face with it.

He had vowed, watching the bastard tremble in court while he and the rest of the council had sentenced him to life in prison, that no other woman would have to go through what the women in the camp had gone through. That he would protect them if he could. That he would do anything it took to make sure something like that never happened again.

It was a promise he knew he couldn't keep, but he'd made it anyway.

He had never forgotten the women. He had never forgotten how much what had happened to them had affected him. He still dreamed about it, sometimes. He hadn't been able to admit it to anyone, not even to Toph, but sometimes he drank himself to sleep just to get the images of those girls out of his head.

Maybe he did drink too much.

Running his hands through his loose hair, Sokka stared morosely into his drink. Pushing the mug away, he glanced up at the ceiling again.

He didn't know what had happened to Azula, not really, but he could guess. He had sworn to protect those girls in the camps from the monster that had crept between the tents... He hadn't been able to do much, back then. Maybe it had always been silly to think that he could.

But he _could_ do something now. He could protect Azula. From her memories. From herself.

From... _anything_ that wanted to harm her.

She would push him away, of course. She would scream at him. She would rage, but he wouldn't, couldn't, leave her to battle her demons again, no matter what. She needed him. Needed _someone._

He had a feeling she had been fighting her demons alone for far too long, and she was not winning. Maybe he couldn't help her. But damned if he wasn't going to try.


	10. Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: Self-Harm

****She'd cut too deeply, a mistake she hadn't made in years. She had lost control tonight. Pain shook her hand as she clamped a white cloth to the wound, watching her blood soak through it without staunch. Azula blew out a breath and reached for the little kit she kept with her at all times. Just in case.

Needle. Thread. A small pair of scissors. Ointment. Something for the pain.

She threaded the hooked needle with shaking hands, snipping it, tying it, and then holding the needle up to the flame dancing at the end of her fingertip. She passed the needle through the flame a few times, sterilizing it.

Then, holding her arm into the light of the candle burning on the bedside table, Azula removed the blood-soaked cloth. She pinched together the neatly sliced skin together and started stitching the wound closed, one painful jab of the needle at a time.

It was sloppy work, and she knew it. Blood ran so much that she had to stop to dab at the wound between stitches just to see it. By the time she was finished, her hand was shaking, and sweat was running down her face, her back aching as she hunched over into the light.

Blood leaked around the stitches as she knotted the last stitch closed, then snipped the thread. Setting aside the blood-coated needle, she wiped more blood away, and then smeared the whole thing with ointment.

That done, she grasped the pad of gauze on the bed beside her without looking at it, slapping it over the wound, and then wrapping a long strip of white bandage around it to secure it. She made sure it wasn't too tight, or too loose, tied it off and then let out another breath.

Her body ached. She was shaking all over. Sweat glistened on her face as she flexed her hand, staring at the other cuts running up and down her arm. There were a couple that were deeper than she liked, but didn't require stitches.

Bracing herself, she cleaned and bandaged those too, until her arm was covered from wrist to elbow. Blood was already staining through the bandages, but she could tell that it was stopping. Her arm ached in time to her heartbeat, and she found herself staring at the hooked needle on the bedside table, the straggling black threads beaded with crimson.

The control she'd felt when she'd started cutting her arm was gone. It had been a lie, and she knew it. She hadn't been in control. Not for a moment. She had wanted to hurt. She had wanted the pain.

But control?

She had no idea what that was. She hadn't been in control of anything in a very long time. Her own mind was working against her. Her dreams were nightmares, memories and horrors that woke her with a scream in her mouth and demons in her blood.

And it had driven him away. Just as she'd known it would.

 _Not that I wanted him to stay,_ she thought as she poured the pain relief powder into a glass of water. She swirled it, and then downed it as fast as she could. The taste was bitter, but she knew from experience that it would dull the pain in her arm enough for her to function.

That done, she cleaned up her makeshift operating table and tools, washing off the needle, sterilizing it with fire once more and then packing it and the rest of the supplies away into her pack. Then, wincing, she pulled on her clothing and shoes. A glance at the window told her that dawn was approaching.

She and Sokka had been scheduled to meet Mai's Smoke Demons contact at dawn in the inn's common room. Sokka was probably long-gone now. Probably on the first ship back to Republic City.

Or maybe he'd gone on to the capital...to Zuko...and that disloyal Earth Kingdom girl...

She tried to push Sokka out of her mind as she got ready to leave the room, her hand and arm throbbing with each breath she took. Exhaustion crawled at her; she wanted nothing more than crawl back into the damp, scorched bed and forget everything.

Instead, she glanced at the window and, seeing the pink and orange streaks of dawn, steeled herself. Grabbing her pack, she left the room and walked down to the inn's common room.

This early in the morning, the place was nearly empty. A few drunks were passed out in the corners, farting and snoring while a young man with close-cropped hair mopped the floor around them. The man glanced at her as she came into the room and sat down at one of the tables. The table was littered with empty mugs and sticky with spilled beer.

A glance toward the kitchen, and a tentative sniff of her nose told her that the kitchen staff was already working on breakfast, but the servers she had seen bustling around with beer and food the night before were nowhere to be seen.

As the young man finished up his mopping, and came around with a large tub, clearing the tables and wiping them down with soapy water and a hard-bristled brush, she caught his eye.

He started for a moment, flushing, and then came over to her. “Uh...miss you're a bit early for breakfast. They don't start serving for another hour.”

Her lips twisted sourly. “Could I just get some tea then?”

“Servers won't be in for another hour either...”

She blew out a frustrated breath. “Perhaps you could--”

“Well...I suppose I _could_...if I were properly motivated,” he started, tossing her a cheeky grin. She stared at him for a moment. Once upon a time she would have intimidated this little nobody into doing what she wanted. She would have enjoyed terrifying him and getting her way to boot. Now, she just felt tired as she fished into her money pouch and half-heartedly tossed him a coin.

He caught it and palmed it with surprising dexterity, the coin rolling over his knuckles before he flicked it into the air with his thumb and caught it again. It disappeared into his pocket faster than she could blink.

“I'll have that right out for you, miss.”

She watched him go, setting her arm gently on top of the table. She pulled back her sleeve a little; she was starting to bleed through the bandages. Her guts twisted and she tried not to think about how she had lost control.

And most of all, she tried not to think of Sokka.

Sokka. On his way to the palace. Laughing with Zuko and that warrior girl. Telling them how crazy she was. How she had lost it. How he had left her in disgust.

Her fingers folded into her palms and she dug her hard, sharp nails into her flesh. Holding steady, trying to ground herself. She closed her eyes and breathed in, willing herself to relax as she opened her mind and her ears up to the sounds around her, focusing on the cooks in the kitchen banging around, shouting to one another jovially. She ignored the snoring drunks on the floor, their rasps fading into the background.

“Your tea, miss?”

She started, her eyes flinging open as she met the young man's sharp gaze. A steaming cup of green tea sat in front of her, but she hadn't heard him put it down. She hadn't even heard him approach her. Her eyes narrowed on him as he stood across the table from her. No one had been able to sneak up on her in years.

“Who are you?” she hissed, her heart skidding against her ribs.

The young man moved his hand and something silver flashed across his palm, and then flipped end over end across his knuckles. It was no coin, however, but a small, thin dagger, which he slammed into the table. It quivered in the scarred wood between them.

The dagger was adorned with a black flame. Azula went very still, her eyes tracking from the blade to the young man, who looked at her steadily.

“ _'Where there is smoke...'”_ he said, his voice trailing off.

“ _'There's fire,'”_ she finished the codeword and tilted her head back as the young man sank down onto the bench across from her. Gone was the friendly smile, the cheekiness. The eyes peering at her now were cold, calculating. She could tell that he was sizing her up. She had no idea what he was seeing. “Is it safe to speak here?”

The Smoke Demon glanced at the kitchen, then back at the drunks on the floor in the corner. His lips curled into a mocking smile as he palmed the dagger with another quick movement that she nearly missed. He was good.

“Safe as houses, Princess Azula. My name is Rian.”

“You're not what I expected.”

“Neither are you.”

“And what does that mean, exactly?”

Rian's dark eyes glittered with amusement. “I was told there would be two of you.”

Her jaw tightened. “You were mistaken.”

“Am I? Did you not check into the honeymoon suite last night with a man named Tazeo?”

“He's no longer in the picture.”

Rian sat back a little, tilting his head to the side as he bit down on the inside of his cheek, seemingly to stop a mocking smile. “My, what a whirlwind romance...just married and already broken up. Well, what can you expect? Ever since your disgusting traitor brother passed those vile laws upholding same-sex relationships, the sanctity of marriage has been rather ruined for all of us, hasn't it?”

Azula's face nearly betrayed her, but she had been playing this game for too long to be tripped up now. “You're not a fan of Fire Lord Zuko's protection of gays?”

“It's disgusting,” Rian sneered. “It's just another symptom of how depraved and rotten his rule has become.”

“And so you joined to put an end to it.”

“An end to all of _them_ ,” he said, and there was no doubt who he meant by _them._ Azula had read all about Zuko passing laws allowing same-sex relationships and marriage—a practice that had been outlawed and criminalized in Sozin's time. She had known it wouldn't be a popular decision, but to see the light in Rian's eyes, the disgust and hatred...

It turned her stomach.

She found herself thinking of Ty Lee for the first time in a long time. The young man before her would have liked nothing more than to kill Ty Lee for daring to exist, for daring to be herself. A part of Azula had always known that Ty Lee had liked girls, though she had pretended otherwise, flirting with boys but never committing to any of them. Azula had also known that Ty Lee had had a crush on her. She had used that crush against her...manipulated her...played with her...

No. She had _terrorized_ Ty Lee, brutally using her for her own selfish ends. Not caring if she hurt her. Not caring for anything but herself and power. She had been a monster.

She _was_ a monster.

Guilt tore at her, even as disgust rose in her guts. She stared at Rian and then lifted her mug of green tea.

“To the death of them all, every last degenerate,” she lied, the words thick on her tongue. She took a drink of the tea and it scalded down her throat, mingled with the taste of her lie. “Especially my undeserving, bastard brother.”

Rian nodded in approval and leaned forward. “It's good to see that the _true_ royal line is untainted with his perversion. I've been told that they mean to put you on the throne.”

 _They._ The Smoke Demons Azula had met so far—only four, not including Mai and June—had always spoken of the leaders of the terrorist cell in vague terms. She still didn't know if 'they' were one person or a hundred.

But that wasn't what she was here to find out, that was Mai's job. She was here to do as the Smoke Demons demanded, to prove her loyalty to the cause, and to, eventually, be sent to assassinate her brother.

“So I've been promised, _if_ I prove myself to the cause.”

“ _If_.”

She ignored the mocking tone in his voice and plowed on. “I was told that there was need of me here in the Fire Nation. I'm eager to serve in anyway that I can, to return our Nation to its roots.”

“And your partner? Tazeo? His reputation for brutality is well known.”

“Yes, he _is_ a brute.”

“And where is he?”

“Does it matter? He is nothing, I can do this without him.”

“We take disloyalty in our organization very seriously, Princess Azula. He knows about us. If he has turned coward and left, then I will have to send someone after him. I will have him killed.”

She could see the glint in Rian's eyes. He meant what he said.

Her guts twisted, fear striking her.

“He is of no consequence and--”

“Oh, darling...you wound me when you speak like that,” Sokka drawled from the doorway, looking for all the world like he belonged there. He leaned against the door frame, his narrow hips hitched, feet crossed, a little smirk on his lips. He had an apple in one hand and an unsheathed sword in the other.

Azula stiffened, but kept her face a blank mask as Rian half-turned, glancing from her to Sokka and back. There was a hard glint in his eyes.

“Sorry I'm late,” Sokka said, taking a bite of the apple. He chewed slowly, looking from Rian to Azula.

“ _'Where there's smoke...'”_ Rian started.

“ _'There's fire,'”_ Sokka finished, tossing the apple carelessly over his shoulder. He walked toward them and Azula saw the slight lurch in his step, the red in his eyes.

He was drunk.

Her hands fisted in her lap, her arm throbbing with pain. She glanced at Rian, but if he noticed he didn't say anything. Sokka came around the table, dropping onto the bench beside her. There was a hardness to his bloodshot eyes, a look that she was starting to come to associate with “Tazeo.” Drunk though he was, he looked like the kind of man who would tear someone limb from limb. It was the same look that had cowed the sailors on the ship and made the innkeeper so wary when they'd arrived. The woman had expected trouble from him.

Trouble. It oozed from his every pore and perched in the corners of his cruel lips... He looked like the kind of trouble any woman would gladly love to fall into.

He sheathed the sword across his back and reached over, taking her cup of tea. He drained it in one and slammed it back down.

“What did I miss, baby?”

Her teeth ground together as she glanced at him. “We were discussing how unnecessary you are.”

“That's not what you said last night.”

She bristled and glared at him. What was he playing at?

Rian looked between them with a wary fascination. “Am I missing something?”

“Lover's quarrel, that's all,” Sokka said. “I came to get back into her good graces.”

“No one told me you'd married. I'd thought it a ruse.”

“We're not married. We're _fucking_ ,” Sokka said and turned a leer on Azula that made her fists tighten. “She _wants_ me to believe she's only fucking me because she wants a loyal guard dog, but the minute I look at a serving wench's ass, she goes into a jealous rage and kicks me out. _Women_ ,” Sokka said emphatically, the lie rolling easily off of his tongue.

“But _are_ you a loyal guard dog?” Rian asked, tilting his head back again, his voice thick with meaning.

“To the cause? Absolutely. I wouldn't cross the fucking ocean if I didn't want to see that Harmony Restoration loving traitor get tossed off of his throne. I want in on this fight. I want to see him hang. Now, am I loyal to her? Well...” he trailed off and looked her up and down and then leaned forward, saying in a conspiratorial whisper. “There are always perks when you fuck a princess. Who knows? Maybe I'll get mansion and shit when this is over? Or maybe not. All I know is that I love it when she's on her knees and begging me in that hot little voice of hers... I'll cut down any man who gets between us. Do you understand?”

Though she realized he had been speaking to Rian, there was something in his voice that caught her in the chest. Heat, warmth, and humiliation flashed in Azula's spine, but overriding it all was the startling mental image he'd conjured. She imagined it, for one brief, confusing moment...her on her knees, Sokka's hands on her hips, their bodies coming together as her back arched and she begged him not to stop...

The image was so sudden—so unexpected—that she couldn't even react to what he'd said. Her face felt hot. She was sure she was angry—how dare he speak of her like that?—but she couldn't move. Couldn't speak.

 _Why_ had he said that? What was he trying to do? What was he trying to prove?

“I think I do,” Rian said slowly.

“Where she goes, I go.”

Rian inclined his head. “A loyal guard dog indeed, but she seems rather tight-lipped at the moment. Princess? Can he be trusted?”

The threat was clear. At her say-so, Rian would attack Sokka.

She lifted her chin, realizing that he'd backed her into a corner. She plunged in. “He's loyal...if he can keep that wandering eye of his in check.”

He leaned back with a smirk and smiled nastily. “I'll try, Princess.”

Rian looked between them, his jaw twisted a little. She could almost see the gears in his head working. She had a feeling he didn't quite trust them—Sokka especially—but he nodded anyway and reached into his shirt. He pulled out a scroll.

“If you fail to follow these instructions you will be killed. We have spies all over the Fire Nation and we will be watching you. If you prove you are disloyal to the cause in any way—if you attempt to communicate with anyone, if you attempt to warn anyone, if you attempt to interfere with our plans—we will have you killed. Do you understand?”

“I guess if we don't you'll have us killed,” Sokka drawled. She smacked him in the shoulder as Rian glared at him.

“We understand.”

But Rian was still glaring at Sokka. She could tell that he didn't trust him. She didn't blame him. Rian was loathsome, ignorant, and hate-filled...but he didn't strike her as stupid.

He held out the scroll to Azula, who took it immediately. At the same time, one of the drunks on the floor snorted loudly and sat up, coughing and scratching himself. Rian stood up and seized the empty teacup.

“Have a good day, miss.”

He bowed at Azula, cast one last narrow glance at Sokka and then disappeared into the kitchen, taking on the guise of a simple bus boy again. The moment he was gone, Azula turned to Sokka, snatched up her pack and snarled, “The room. NOW.”

He didn't argue, just followed her up the stairs at a brisk pace, though she noticed a slight tilt to his walk. If Rian had noticed how drunk he was, he hadn't let on.

The moment they were in the honeymoon suite, the door closing behind him with a click, she rounded on him and threw out her fist. The punch took Sokka in the jaw and he fell back against the door with wince.

He clutched his face and looked at her through questioning, bloodshot eyes, even as she bit back a cry of pain. The blow had reverberated through her injured arm.

“How dare you? If you _ever_ say anything like that about me again, I will fucking burn you alive,” she snarled, stepping forward and shoving her hand into his chest.

“I _had_ to explain why we had a fight, Azula. He already knew about it, and I didn't think you wanted him to know we had a fight because you had..an _episode._ I didn't want to give him a reason to doubt you. Better that he thinks we had some stupid lover's spat!”

“I didn't have an... How dare you—I—“

“Look...Azula... I'm trying to be understanding here. I am. I get that...you're... You're _sick_ , okay? I know it's none of my business, and I know you don't want to talk about it, but you _are_.”

“Shut up! You don't know anything!”

“I know you're hurting. I know you're having nightmares so bad you wake up screaming. I know you have panic attacks. Panic attacks that _incapacitate_ you. I know you don't want to talk about this, but we have to. Okay? Pretending it's not happening is only hurting you, and it may get us both killed. I want to help.”

“Why? I thought you were leaving? Going back to Republic City...or maybe to your precious Earth Kingdom slut.”

His jaw tightened at that, but he ignored it. “We're partners, aren't we?”

“No, we're not. You're only here to protect Zuko.”

“I can protect you both.”

“I don't need your protection,” she said as she stepped back. He pushed himself off of the door and looked at her solemnly.

“You have it anyway,” he said stonily. “I'm not leaving. You can push me away if you want, scream at me, rage, throw fire...but I won't leave you again.”

“You're drunk.”

“I've had a few,” he conceded with a shrug. “But I meant what I said. We're in this together, Princess.”

She clutched the scroll to her chest for a moment, her arm throbbing in time to her racing heartbeat. For one small moment, she remembered the startling and unexpected fantasy his words had conjured so easily, with such lurid detail. It played across her mind for a heartbeat before she pushed it away.

“Fine,” she said, turning back to face him again. “But the lovers ruse stops now.”

Sokka flinched. “Azula, we just told that Smoke Demon that we're sleeping together. They'll know. They'll expect it. They'll be suspicious if we drop it.”

Her jaw tightened. “Fine. But you will not speak of me like that ever again. If they think we're lovers, fine. But we're not. And if you ever say anything about me...on my knees...or...or anything I'll...I'll...”

“Burn me alive, got it. I'm sorry about that,” he said, and his face was suddenly burdened with shadows, his mouth down-turned. “That was too far. I was trying to be Tazeo, to do what _he_ would have done. I got carried away. I apologize, Princess. I won't disrespect you like that again.”

There was a tone in his voice. He was making her an oath, just like he had in the alley when she'd had her panic attack after he'd grabbed her wrist. He had promised not to touch her. He had, so far, upheld that promise.

For some reason, she believed him. She looked up and met his gaze. There was a lot between them, so many heavy things that would have to be addressed eventually. Her panic attacks, her nightmares, his drinking, this partnership, or whatever it was. His gaze was soft, and though there was a hazy light there, she thought it was only from the beer he'd had, and nothing else.

Still, there was something about that look. No one had ever looked at her like that. Like they _cared_.

She caught a breath, feeling pain in her chest.

“So what's on the scroll?” he asked, startling her into looking down at it like it was a snake that would bite her. She sighed heavily.

“Whatever the Smoke Demons have planned for us,” she said in a brittle voice. “Sabotage, espionage, murder maybe...”

“Great,” Sokka said with a humorless voice. “Let's go be bad guys.”

 


	11. Ten

****He took a measured breath, eyes narrowed as he pulled back into the shadows gathered in the tiny alley between the buildings. The walls were so close he could touch them both with his hands at the same time. His breath was hot on the black half-mask obscuring his face as he glanced out at the street.

The moon was just coming up, stretching long black shadows like reaching fingers across the empty square. There was one lone guard pacing across the bricks, close enough to engage.

His hand fingered the sword at his belt, but he didn't pull it. Instead, he listened intently, watching the pacing soldier, waiting...

A loud _bong!_ cut the still night, chiming the time at the Fire Sage sanctuary up in the hills a few miles away. The sound of the bells could be heard for miles in every direction, eerie and echoing. He counted the chimes, waiting with baited breath.

Eight...nine...ten...eleven...

At the twelfth chime a massive explosion ripped the night apart, sending a gigantic fireball skyward, and rocking the ground beneath his feet. It lit up the night around him, the glass shaking in the windows above him so hard they cracked, raining glittering shards into the alley. The soldier in the square shouted something, and he heard more screams coming from the buildings around him.

Sokka didn't stop to watch the chaos.

He spun on his heel, running down the alley at a sprint, his legs pumping, arms churning, his eyes on the building at the end of the alley, which was bathed in moonlight and flickering red light from the explosion.

At the end of the alley he twisted, launching himself at the wall. He hit it halfway up and rebounded on the opposite wall with a grunt. The momentum launched him back at the other wall again and he hit it with his foot, and then twisted forward, toward the mouth of the alley.

His hands caught on a metal bar that spanned the tiny alley, anchored between the two buildings near the roof line. His body arced forward, but he pumped his legs back like a gymnast.

His hands tightened on the rusted metal bar as he swung back into the alley, and then forward with a great heave and a grunt.

He let go of the bar and shot forward, tumbling through the air so fast it made his head spin. He landed on the roof of the building across the narrow street with a crack. He rolled with the momentum and came up on his feet, nearly slipped on the tiles.

He dug in instead, and launched himself across the roof, ignoring the red light of the fire in the distance, and the shouts from down in the street. At the end of the roof, he skidded to a stop, one hand stopping him as he grasped the eave. The street opened up below him; he could see soldiers running from the building beneath him, toward the source of the explosion.

He waited, peering down at them intently, until a second explosion—less than 30 seconds after the first had split the night apart—boomed through the night.

As the second fireball rose in the air before him, he grasped the edge of the roof in both hands and jumped down, swinging himself forward again. He brought his feet together and shoved them through the cracked window set just below the eaves.

Another swinging motion and he heaved his body through the window and into the building. He landed in a crouch on the carpeted floor of what appeared to be a darkened office. No surprise. This was the headquarters of a garrison of the Fire Nation Army. It had taken them a few days of skulking in the shadows to determine which building held the C.O.'s office.

Standing, Sokka crept to the door, slowing his breathing as he put his ear to the thin wood. He could hear distant shouting, but the explosions had done their job. It appeared that everyone had abandoned the building.

Sokka cracked the door open, peering into the hallway, but it was empty. He heard the third—and last—explosion right on time.

Trying not to think of Azula out there alone, surrounded by an entire garrison of soldiers, he concentrated on the task at hand. The faster he was out of here, the better. He crept into the deserted hallway, eying the names on the doors.

Mostly storage, a few offices.

He took the stairs with caution, keeping to the wall, one hand on his sword. The second floor was as deserted as the third. He finally found what he was looking for at the end of the hallway. The C.O.'s office. Pulse racing, he tried the door, but it was locked.

Drawing back, Sokka lifted his foot and kicked the door in with one swift movement. The wood shattered, the door sagging on its hinges. He pushed it aside, and ran into the darkened room. As he did, he heard loud voices below him, shouted commands, lots of footsteps.

“Shit,” he ground out, going for the desk and the stack of papers there. He rifled through it, sweat running down his back. He could hear more shouts and footsteps on the stairs now. It wouldn't be long before he had company.

The stack of papers were requisition forms for things like food, armor and new boots. He threw the papers down and reached for the drawers on the desk. The first two drawers were full of office supplies; quills, scrolls, wax, scissors... Gritting his teeth, he closed the second drawer and reached for the third.

Only to find that it was locked.

He didn't bother to look around for the key. Instead he drew his sword and jammed the tip into the small crack above the lock. He pushed his weight into the pommel, leveraging the drawer open with a creak of wood.

The wood splintered with a loud crack. Sokka yanked the drawer open and plunged his hand inside, pulling out a scroll. It had the royal seal on it, unbroken.

“Gotcha,” Sokka breathed, even as the sound of footsteps and an authoritative voice barked an order from the hallway.

“Take a group of soldiers down to the river, that's the only way they could have escaped! I want to know who blew up those tanks and if--” The man paused and then cursed. Sokka heard the ring of steel, and the illumination of fire that lit up the hallway through the crack in the sagging door.

Sokka shoved the scroll into his vest, cursing inwardly, even as the commanding officer kicked his broken office door in like an avenging spirit.

The man was middle-aged, but muscled like a moose-lion, with a crooked, squashed nose that looked like it had been broken more than once. He had a few teeth missing too, as he sneered at Sokka from the doorway, a handful of flames under lighting his brutish features in red.

Sokka sneered right back at him and waved his sword.

“HOW THE HELL DID YOU--” the officer started, but Sokka slammed his sword backward into the window behind him. The glass shattered as Sokka launched himself backward, breaking the rest of the glass. The world rushed by him as he twisted in mid-air, landing in a rolling ball on the street. He tumbled, banging, scraping and bruising himself as the breath was knocked out of him.

His sword clattered a few steps away as he came to a stop in an ungainly sprawl, only to feel a fireball explode beside him with a hot crack. He flinched, rolling away, glancing up at the officer in the window of his office, tossing another volley of fire at him.

He rolled again, grabbing his lost sword as the fire exploded so close the heat of the flames licked at his tattooed arm. Pain bit at him, hot and sharp.

He lurched to his bloodied knees, tossing his long hair out of his eyes as the officer lined up another shot.

Sokka flinched, his body tensing, knowing in a split second that there was no way to avoid the third fireball, that it would hit him head on.

A lithe figure came out of the darkness, spinning in front of him and catching the fire. With another spin, she shot the fireball back at the building with deadly accuracy. The flames exploded against the broken window, knocking the officer back with a cry as he lifted his arms to block the flames.

“Come on!” Azula snarled from beneath her mask, taking off in the opposite way she'd come. He realized why in an instant; there were five soldiers tearing their way, weapons drawn and fire sizzling above outstretched hands. Several of them were singed, either from the explosions at the docks or from Azula, he wasn't sure.

Sokka ran after Azula, tearing around the building and into the same narrow alley where he'd waited for her signal. The gas tanks she had blown up were still sending columns of fire into the sky. Azula turned out of the alley, and, unprotected by the buildings, the heat of the flames slapped them in the face.

The river docks had caught fire when the natural gas tanks had blown one by one. Debris littered the dock: crates, supplies, engine parts...but no bodies. There were Firebenders fighting the flames, but they weren't winning. The gas tanks were fed from a natural, and abundant reservoir below. They would be on fire for days. Possibly weeks.

No one noticed them as they ran in the opposite direction of the flaming tanks., heading for the buildings on the edge of town. Azula reached them first, hustling into the shadowed lee of the building. Sokka was two steps behind her, and she grabbed his arm, whipping him around so hard that his shoulder cracked against the shingled wall.

She ignored his grunt of pain, peering out at the hellfire. The soldiers that had been chasing them came out of the alley and looked around. Their leader gestured left and right, splitting the group.

“Things are getting a little hot,” Sokka breathed as Azula turned back and nodded.

“You just _had_ to get caught,”

“I noticed you had a pack of soldiers on your ass too.”

“Because I came back for you, against my better judgment,” she sniped at him.

“We can fight about it later. We need to get to the boats,” he said, peering around her and then back down the scrubby riverbank.

Though the garrison was large, full of sprawling barracks, storage buildings, training centers and offices, the actual village was nothing more than a cluster of wooden buildings huddled beside the river, the businesses mostly serving the army garrison. There weren't many houses as most of the merchants lived above their shops. Which meant there weren't a lot of places to hide.

“Keep an eye out,” Azula said, creeping along the wall. She peered down the narrow side-yard of the building at their back and into the main street as Sokka watched the activity at the docks. “Clear.”

They crept from one house to the other until they reached the edge of the village, which ended abruptly at a twist in the river. There was a much smaller dock there, used by the local fishermen. There was a series of small boats tied up there, bobbing in the water.

Three soldiers were guarding the dock with their hands full of flames.

“We can take them,” Azula breathed beside him, but he shook his head.

“I've got a better idea,” Sokka said, sheathing his sword as he peered at the soldiers. He didn't recognize them as the ones who had chased them. He ripped his mask off. “Follow me. Try to look scared and helpless.”

Azula made a disgusted noise, but pulled off her mask too, and followed him out of the shadows as he pelted around the building.

“HELP! HELP!” Sokka said, looking around frantically. He pretended to spot the soldiers, who had started at the sight of him. They came at the two of them, swords drawn.

“HOLD IT RIGHT THERE!”

“Oh! Soldiers! Thank the Fire Lord! Someone's broken into my store! My poor wife is terrified! I think he's hiding out in one of the bedrooms! HURRY BEFORE THEY BURN THE PLACE DOWN!”

He jabbed a finger back at the building they'd been hunkered behind, which proved to be a leather-working shop.

“SIR, WE--”

“PLEASE! MY CHILDREN ARE UP THERE! HELP US!” Azula shrieked beside him, making Sokka half-turn toward her in surprise. She looked genuinely distressed and horrified as she clutched her hands to her face, tears in her eyes.

“Ma'am--”

“HURRY!”

The lead soldier glanced between them and then nodded firmly. “You, take the back, I'll take the front. You, go get help!”

One of the soldiers peeled off from the group and ran down the center of town, toward the towering inferno at the docks. The whole night sky was lit up with the fire. Sokka hoped it didn't spread to the rest of the town, but at least it seemed like everyone had been roused from their beds. Most of the townspeople were grouped together a few hundred feet from the docks, watching the soldiers battle the blaze. He hoped that the owners of the leather shop were among them, or they were about to get a couple of helpful intruders.

Sokka watched the soldiers approach the house from the front and back. They entered at the same time, swords drawn, fire in their hands.

Sokka didn't' wait to see what would happen. He was off and running toward the docks, Azula one step behind him.

They jumped down into one of the boats. He immediately slipped the mooring line off of the post and pushed the boat out into the river, wishing for a moment that he was a Waterbender like Katara. But the current here was fast, and they were soon whisking around the sharp bend in the river, Sokka pulling the oars with little effort, though his arm was still shaking with pain.

The village fell behind them faster than thought, though the light from the fire lit the night sky with a red haze that nearly blotted out the crescent moon hanging low on the horizon.

They didn't speak until they were a mile down the river, Sokka's oars dipping and falling through the rushing water.

“Did you get it?”

“I think so,” he grunted. “Why didn't you stick to the plan?”

Azula shrugged, glancing along the shrub-lined riverbank, her face bathed in moonlight. “Somehow, I knew you'd need my help and if you got caught there went the whole mission.”

“Only part of the mission,” he pointed out. “You blew the tanks.”

“Yes, I pulled off my end spectacularly, didn't I?” Azula drawled, leaning back in the boat on both elbows. She shook back her hair and tipped her face to the red-drenched moonlight. She looked like a goddess, lounging there.

“Well, aren't you proud of yourself,” he groused, though for some reason he was fighting a grin. Some of the adrenaline was wearing off and he starting to feel giddy. They had done it. They'd actually pulled it off. _Together._

It had been a tense two weeks, but somehow they had pulled it off despite the clash of their personalities. After the fight in the inn, Sokka had been trying desperately not to spook her again. When she did something odd, or wasn't quite there with him, he let it go. Eventually he'd figure how to get through to her.

Until then he was trying his damnedest to be understanding. She didn't make it easy.

“I should be, _you_ on the other hand...” she trailed off as his good mood soured.

“The C.O. came back faster than I anticipated. Nothing I could do about it.”

“He didn't see your face, though.”

“No. And hopefully those soldiers on the dock didn't get a good look either,” Sokka grunted, and then spotted the take out point. He rowed toward the lightning-struck tree, its skeletal branches thrusting at the sky. He rowed until the boat bumped against the rocky shore, then tossed down the oars and climbed out.

Azula followed and together they hauled the little dingy out of the water, up onto the rocks and then behind a thick clump of elderberry bushes. They put dead branches and leaves all over the top of the weathered hull and then glanced at one another.

Sokka grinned at her. “I think we just officially became terrorists.”

“And a traitor to the crown, in my case.”

“A busy night all around then,” he said and pulled the scroll from his vest. “I just hope it's worth it.”

* * *

 

It was a long walk across forested terrain to the safe house they had been hiding in for the past two weeks while they'd planned their explosive little heist. The scroll that Rian had given them had had directions to the house—a shack, really—and instructions. Neither one of them knew what was on the scroll they'd been instructed to find, but they had been instructed not to open it under any circumstances.

Curiosity roared in Azula's chest as she tucked the scroll into the pouch at her waist, walking a few steps behind Sokka as they picked a circuitous path through the forest. She wanted to open it, but she knew that the Smoke Demons were testing them. They wanted to see if the two of them would follow every order given to them, no matter what.

She could speculate about what was on the scroll though. She knew quite a lot about the Fire Nation Army. The information on that scroll was highly classified, and probably contained defense strategies that only the top men in the army were privy to.

Whatever it was, the Smoke Demons wanted it. She could see why. That kind of top secret information would definitely come in handy if one wanted to attack the Fire Nation. Which the Smoke Demons did.

Sokka glanced back at her as he walked, but she couldn't see his face for the hanging shadows of the trees. Though they were being as quiet as possible, the forest was littered with crunchy yellow leaves. Autumn had arrived, with its flame-like foliage. It didn't get as cold here as in the Earth Kingdom, but she knew that the nights were about to get bitterly cold. It would even snow on the northern-most islands soon.

He looked back at her again a few moments later, and she let out a huff of annoyance. “What?”

“Nothing,” he said hastily, which made her halt in her steps.

“You thought I was going to break down back there, didn't you?” she said softly. Sokka stopped and turned to face her.

“I thought you might,” he admitted heavily.

“Well, I didn't,” she said sharply. “The tanks went up without a hitch. Just like they ordered.”

“I know.”

“So stop staring at me like I'm some fragile little flower about to wilt,” she snapped at him, starting forward. “I'm fine and no one asked for your opinion otherwise.”

“You had another nightmare last night.”

She whirled on him. “We're not talking about this.”

He didn't say anything, just followed in her wake like a silent sentinel. She could feel his eyes on her, watching her as warily as he had the past two weeks, ever since he had witnessed her nightmare in the inn. He hadn't confronted her about them again. He hadn't said much of anything.

He just watched her, mostly while he thought she wouldn't notice. She didn't know what was going through his head, but his attentive eyes were far too sharp for her liking. Though her arm had started to heal, she had had to hide the cuts and the stitches from him and that had not been easy in the tiny confines of their safe house.

She was ashamed of the little rows of cuts. She didn't want him to see them. Didn't want to give him another reason to think that she was weak.

At least the voices in her head had stayed silent. Mostly. And her visions had been easily ignored. If he'd noticed her reacting to them, he hadn't said anything.

They came to the safe house an hour before dawn. The place was a ramshackle wooden dwelling, covered in clapboard shingles. The sagging roof was missing half of its tiles, and there was an outhouse near the trees that smelled as badly as it looked. There was a well near the front door, however, and the water was clear and cold.

Both she and Sokka were parched. They hadn't brought any water or food with them on their mission tonight. Wordlessly, Sokka pumped water into the bucket and offered it to her first. She ignored his chivalry and drank as much of the ice-cold water as she could stand, then shoved the bucket at him.

He drank his fill too, and then pumped more water into it as she turned and entered the shack.

The inside was as sad as the outside. There were two rooms, a ragged tarp stretched across the doorway as a makeshift door. The first room had a small, blackened hearth made out of gray river rocks and a single window, the glass miraculously unbroken but so grimed over it was nearly impossible to see out of.

Sokka's bedroll and pack was laid out on the dirt floor of the hearth room. She had claimed the second room, though it wasn't much better. She had slept in worse before, but she had been careful not to tell Sokka that.

Their plans lay scattered on the floor and tacked to the wooden walls. A map of the town, the garrison, the docks, and the path back to the shack were prominently displayed. It had taken them days of reconnaissance to map it all out, planning every detail of their escape.

While it hadn't gone completely according to plan, somehow, it had worked.

“We need to burn all of this and then pack. We need to be in Gei before noon to meet our next contact,” Sokka said behind her, gesturing to their plans on the walls. She started, and turned to face him. He stood in the doorway, shirtless, water glistening on his muscular chest and slicking back his hair.

She hitched in a breath and stepped away from him.

“I know that,” she snapped.

“Then get to it, _Firebender_ ,” he said, passing so close to her that she could see the water on his lips, even in the darkness. He didn't touch her though. He was always careful not to touch her. A hot flush rose up her face as he bent over his pack and pulled something out of it. Ignoring him, she started pulling the maps and plans off of the walls.

She shoved it all into the little fireplace and lit it on fire. The room glowed with blue light from her flames as she stood back and watched all of their careful planning burn to a crisp.

Sokka made a sound behind her, a little hiss of pain that made her turn toward him. He was probing a raw, red burn on his arm.

“You're hurt.”

“Nothing I can't handle,” he grunted, pulling supplies out of his pack. He awkwardly tried to wrap a bandage around it with his left hand, but fumbled. She rolled her eyes and sank down onto his bedroll beside him. She snatched the bandage out of his hand.

“You're as useless as tits on a lion-turtle,” she groused as she smacked his hand away too.

A laugh bubbled up out of him and he looked as surprised by it as she was as their gazes clashed in the firelight.

“I think some of my peasant charm is wearing off on you, Princess,” he mused as she grabbed ointment and dabbed at the burn.

“I did spend three years in the Earth Kingdom. They're a very earthy people,” she pointed out.

“I see what you did there.”

She rolled her eyes again. “I learned a lot of things.”

“Like healing?” he said, wincing as she cleaned the wound as best she could. She glanced at her arm, but her sleeve was still covering her bandages, and the old scars cross-hatching her pale flesh.

“I'm no healer, but learning how to stitch myself up was necessary,” she said softly and peered at the burn. “This may scar, but it's not as bad as it looks. Or probably feels. You need to keep it clean.”

Sokka nodded, watching as she rubbed the ointment all over the wound, then bandaged it with an expert hand. When she was finished, she looked up at him. Their eyes met for a long moment.

“Why did you need to stitch yourself up?” he finally asked.

She swallowed and stood up. “We need to leave before they pick up our trail. It'll take us all morning to get to Gei.”

She felt his eyes on her as she ducked into the other room. She wished, and not for the first time, that the shack was bigger, that she could get more distance between herself and Sokka. She didn't know what to make him most of the time.

She almost wanted to start a fight with him again, because at least when he was angry she understood him. When he looked at her like that, and spoke in that soft voice, it upended her completely.

It put her off her guard, and she had learned a long time ago, in the worst way possible, that letting her guard down only lead to pain and suffering.

She wouldn't make that mistake again. Not with him. Not with anyone.


	12. Eleven

****Their journey to meet their next contact brought them out of the forested hills and into the largest agricultural center in the Fire Nations. They journeyed all mourning through terraces of rice fields cut into the steep hillsides surrounding the valleys, past orchards bursting with fruit, and through endless, rolling fields of grains.

Sokka and Azula kept to the narrow, dusty roads, passing farmers and laborers in the fields and orchards, harvesting the last of the season's crops before the first frost could claim them.

The air was thick with dust and hay, and it made Sokka's nose itch. The sun was warm, beating down on their shoulders as they put as much distance between themselves and the garrison town as possible. It wasn't long before the walled market town of Gei sprouted up before them as they came down from a large hill.

From the distance, they could see a series of low, red-roofed buildings, with a few multi-story pagodas springing up among them.

Sokka glanced at Azula as they came to a crossroads, where the dusty little side-road they had followed through the valley intersected with the main road into Gei. The road was paved, but covered in a cracked layer of rutted mud. A signpost told them that Gei was three miles away.

He glanced at the sun, judging the time as Azula pulled out a water skin and took a drink.

“We'll be there before noon,” he said with some relief. Azula nodded and handed him the skin. Surprised, he took it and downed a large mouthful of water, trying to wash the taste of dust out of his mouth.

“Good,” she said, wiping at the grit in her eyes. She winced and rubbed at her eye some more, as he put the cap back on the skin. “Ow.”

“What's wrong?”

“Nothing,” she said, turning away as she ran her finger along her lash line. She blinked a few times and then screwed up her face.

Sokka hung the skin on his belt and came around to face her. “You have something in your eye.”

“Thank you, Captain Obvious. I've got it. OUCH!” Azula said as a tear rolled down her cheek. “Dammit...”

“Don't rub it.”

Azula dropped her hand, squinting at him. “And just what do you suggest?”

Sokka thought a moment and then lifted his hands. He stepped forward and then stopped, blanching in the bright sunlight. “Umm... May I?”

Azula hitched in a breath, her mouth flattening to a thin line for a moment. She swallowed and then put her feet flat on the dusty road. Rubbing her eye again, she nodded. “Okay.”

Feeling strangely nervous, Sokka approached her with caution. “Let me see.”

She dropped her hand and opened her eye as much as she able; her eye was red and bleary with protective tears. Sokka lifted his hands, his thumb barely brushing her chin, tilting her head back. He used his other hand to open her eye up.

“Do you see anything?” she asked in a tight voice, trembling beneath his touch. He knew what it was costing her to allow this. He had taken so much care not to touch her since his promise. He hadn't wanted to trigger another panic attack, but he also wanted her to trust him to keep his word.

“Hold still...”

Still holding her face, he blew gently against her lashes and then gently pulled the speck of dirt from the corner of her eye. One of her long black eyelashes came with it, and he held up his finger, a smile on his lips.

Azula was staring at him, looking confused, a high flush in her cheeks.

“Got it. Make a wish,” he said lightly.

Azula looked from him to the eyelash on the tip of his finger. She bit down on her lip and stepped back. He let his hand fall away from her as she wiped at her bloodshot eye with the back of her long sleeve.

“Wishes are for children and idiots,” she said stiffly, turning away from him. She didn't thank him, just started down the rutted road to Gei, her head bent against the dust-laden breeze.

Sokka let out a breath and watched her walk away from him for a moment. Then he blew on the end of his finger.

He didn't make a wish. He wasn't even sure of what he wanted.

* * *

 

The streets of Gei were a maze of open air market stalls, noise, smells, livestock and children underfoot. A lively auction was being held in the center of the town, with a caller on the block, swinging a gavel back and forth. The noise of the place put Azula on edge.

She felt brittle, like thin ice cracking underfoot. Every noise made her jump and clench her hands into fists. She glanced at Sokka, wondering if he was feeling the same way, but the look on his face was enraptured.

He didn't look like Tazeo at the moment. He looked like himself, like _Sokka,_ with a gleam of greed in his eye as he passed a market stall selling bags and hand-woven shirts made of blood-red wool as soft as butter.

He grinned at the seller as he reached out and caressed the edge of one of the shirts with his long fingers. She could still feel those fingers on her, gentle, holding her like delicate glass. Afraid to scare her. Afraid to hurt her.

She felt light-headed all of a sudden, watching him inspecting a leather bag, his hair falling across his dark face in slashes. Her chest compressed, sweat breaking out over her skin. A man bumped against her, knocking her off balance as fear laced up her spine.

A cart rolled past, nearly clipping her. The auction caller's voice was shrill in her ears. A dog barked too close, children running after it. One child ran past her, laughing, dark hair streaming behind her.

Azula felt stretched tight all of a sudden, cracks forming beneath her skin as the sounds crowded in on her. Things had been so quiet at the shack, surrounded by the forest and the dark stillness beneath its boughs. She had gotten used to it. Found comfort in it.

Her eyes followed the laughing child as the breath caught in her chest. Her irritated eyes widened, swelling with tears as anxiety spun through her. There were too many people. They were too close.

Another man bumped her, carrying a bulging basket full of ripe and glossy tomatoes.

“'Scuse me, miss,” he said, but he was _too close._

The world spun around her, everything lost in the blur of noise and bodies and heat and smells and colors and she was lost in it, too small, too exposed. She found herself adrift in the chaos of it all, lost as the blood thundered in her ears.

She wanted to make it stop. She wanted it all to stop.

Turning, she gasped as she found herself face to face with a woman long dead.

_Y_ _ou deserve to burn like we burned._

“You're not real,” she breathed as the woman stepped forward, slithering through the crowd like a poisonous gas. “You're not real, I know you're not.”

But the woman's eyes bored into hers. Eyes full of hatred, murder, disgust... Her face was charred black on one side, her hair scorched to her raw red scalp. There was something on her back. A mewling thing, with a charred fist waving at the air helplessly, flesh oozing from the blackened bones.

“Nooo....”

_They came for us because of you._

Azula clapped her hands over ears and backed away, slamming into someone who grunted and pushed her away.

“You're not real!”

_All dead and gone, because of you... Everything you touch is poison._

“Go away... GO AWAY! GO AWAY! GO AWAY!” she said, panic rising in her. Tears spilled from her eyes the crowd turned on her.

“What's wrong with her?” someone said with disgust in their voice, but she squeezed her eyes shut tightly, bending, dizzy, breathless as the world spun and tilted and upended.

“She's mad.”

“Miss, are you alright?” a man said, reaching for her. The moment his hand touched her, she lashed out, fire blooming between them. The man cried out and backed up a step, but he wasn't a man, he was the thing, the burned woman, and he was staring at her and he knew he knew he knew he knew they all knew--

A hand caught her wrist, stopping her from attacking, though she hadn't been aware that she was going to. A cry left her as she was whipped around, meeting Sokka's determined blue eyes. His face was made of stone, his jaw tight.

“Breathe,” he said calmly, grasping her other wrist. The fire in her hands danced so close to his face that she could see the heat flushing his skin. He didn't flinch back. “Breathe, Azula. _Breathe_.”

She let out a breath that shook and stared into his eyes, at the fire reflected in them.

“Forget all of them, okay? Block it all out. It's just you and me and I'm not going to hurt you. You know that I won't hurt you.”

She took another breath, pulling the air into her aching lungs as her head spun. “Yes.”

“Just focus on me, all right? Breathe for me. _Breathe_ ,” he said soothingly, ignoring the crowd watching them, the people whispering behind their hands.

The dead woman came up and wrapped her arms around Sokka's neck. She whimpered and tried to yank her hands free of his grasp, but he held her.

_He can't help you. He hates you. He knows what you are._

She let out another cry, trembling before him as the fire danced in the air between them, her gaze focused on the dead woman. Sokka's eyes flickered and he took in a sharp breath.

“It's not real, Azula. Whatever you're seeing, it's not real.”

“I killed her,” she found herself saying, and then felt her knees quake, threatening to give out on her as the panic swelled within her.

“Just focus on me, okay? It's not real. I'm real, okay? I'm real. Look at me. _I'm_ real,” he said firmly, still gripping her wrists. She could feel the sweat on his skin, the calluses on his palms. She could smell his sweat from their walk to Gei, pungent, masculine, familiar. It filled her, grounded her as she breathed in, her lungs desperate for the air that was filled with him.

“You're real?” she said as another wave of cold sweat broke out over her skin.

“I'm real,” he assured her again, just as firmly. “Forget everything else. Just focus on that. I'm breathing. I'm standing right here, and I'm not going to let anything happen to you. You're safe. Just breathe.”

Slowly she let the fire die and closed her hands into fists. She sank forward, pushing her face into his chest, letting a strangled cry escape her. Too exhausted to protest, she allowed him to wrap his arms around her shoulders. He pulled her even closer, until she could feel his breath on her forehead, his hand hesitating before sinking into her hair.

She trembled in his arms, something in her breaking open, cracking just a little. Something in the back of her head was screaming warnings at her, that he was too close, that he was touching her and that was bad, bad, bad, bad things happened when she was touched, that he would hurt her, but another part of her didn't care.

He was _real._

He would not hurt her.

He had promised.

* * *

 

Azula was limp and unresponsive as he maneuvered her out of the crowded square, ignoring the curious looks from strangers, who craned their heads and watched them like they had just witnessed something disgusting.

“Poor mad girl...”

“She could have killed someone...”

“Ought to lock her up.”

Setting his jaw, Sokka pushed people out of his way with a murderous glare and they passed out of the main square and down a less-crowded side street filled with neat little houses. One of the houses had a fountain in front of it, bubbling with clear water.

Sokka brought her over to it and made her sit on the edge. She was trembling, covered in sweat, her eyes rolling in their sockets. She was as pale as ivory as she clutched at him, her nails digging into his skin, as if anchoring herself to him, to reality.

“Sokka?”

“Tazeo,” he corrected gently, lowering himself onto one knee before her. He smiled a little as confusion marred her brow and then smoothed out. “My name is Tazeo, Princess.”

“Tazeo would never have done that,” she whispered, lowering her head, her hair falling forward like a black sheet of night. He didn't have to ask what she meant by that.

“What happened back there?”

She took another unsteady breath, but didn't look up at him. “I don't know.”

Sokka nodded. “It's okay.”

“No, it's not. This is why Mai wanted to someone to come along. She... She knows. That I'm...” She stopped and swallowed, looking up, meeting his gaze and then dropping her head again. “She knows I'm crazy. I see things. I hear things. They're not there and sometimes I can ignore them and then sometimes... It's too much sometimes and I just get lost. I hate getting lost.”

There was shame in her voice, but no hint of the defensiveness that had driven him out of the suite that night at the inn. Maybe she was tired of fighting, tired of pretending.

“It's okay,” he repeated. “I understand.”

“I don't,” she said and her voice cracked, tears in her eyes. She seemed to catch herself, however, and lifted a hand to cover her mouth. Her sharp nails dug into her face, so hard he knew she was going to raise blood.

“Hey...no...don't...” he said gently, reaching out and prying her hand away. As he did, her sleeve fell back over her wrist and he caught sight of a row of pink scars up and down her arm, covering nearly the whole surface. His brow furrowed. “What--”

But she snatched her arm back, taking a sharp breath. Her face was pinched, topaz eyes wide as she stared at him. A million questions tumbled around on his tongue, but she stopped them dead.

“Don't touch me.”

He lifted his hands immediately, sitting back on his heels. “I'm sorry, Princess. I won't do it again.”

“You may have to. You stopped me from hurting that man.”

“Yeah. Of course, I did,” he said wearily, running a hand down his face.

“I need you to do that again, if I lose control.”

“Of course.”

“Good.”

She nodded and lowered her head, staring at her feet as the fountain bubbled behind her. He drew in a breath and cocked his head to the side.

“Look... I don't know what I'm doing, I don't know how to help you, but I want to. Maybe we can figure this out together? We just have to trust one another.”

“How do we do that? We can't stand one another.”

He shook his head. “We're all we have right now. This is shit show, but we're both in the shit together.”

“You mean you're stuck with me.”

“No, I'm not. I could have left that night at the inn. I knew what I was getting into, Azula. Whatever you throw at me, whatever the Smoke Demons throw at me, I intend to stay right here.”

“Why?” she challenged, turning her unwavering gaze on him.

He thought of the women in the tenement camps, of the haunted looks in their eyes. And he thought of Azula, screaming in her dreams, thin and worn and broken. He couldn't say the words. He didn't even know how.

He shrugged.

“I like a challenge, and _Spirits alive_ , you are one challenging bitch to deal with,” he said, pulling a teasing smile. Azula opened her mouth to reply, but then gave an exhausted laugh. She lifted her hand, hiding her smile behind her knuckles.

“You're not funny.”

“I'm hilarious, actually,” he said with false modesty. His grin faded as she sniffed and wiped at her eyes. “We'll figure this out.”

“You can't fix me.”

“Who said you were broken?” he replied, and she looked at him, startled at his certainty. “You're still _you_ , Azula. You're an amazing Firebender. You're smart and resourceful and strong. You're alarmingly beautiful, and you have a way of pissing me off that is frankly supernatural. That's who you are.”

“And I'm also sick.”

“You have a mental illness, Azula, but that doesn't define you.”

“But that's how you see me.”

His mouth tightened. “I see _you_ and I think you've been dealing with this alone for too long. It's okay to ask for help, to need that help.”

“My father would see that as a weakness.”

“Your father is rotting in a prison cell because he tried to burn down half the world. Like, no offense, but fuck his opinion on everything but what it's like to be a festering butthole.”

She laughed again, a short bark that she stifled quickly, pressing her lips together. “You are _not_ funny.”

“Then stop laughin', Princess.” He glanced at the sky above them and cursed. He stood and held out his hand. “Are you ready?”

She looked at his hand for a long moment and then reached out, sliding her hand into his. He swallowed hard as he pulled her to feet. Azula's eyes were turbulent as she looked down at their joined hands.

“We're late to the meeting with our contact,” she said, as if reminding herself.

“We just stole top secret military plans and blew up half a town for these bastards. They can wait five minutes,” he said easily, squeezing her fingers. Then he let go of her hand and walked away, leaving her to stare after him. He stopped a few feet away and turned back to her. She was looking at her palm with a dark expression on her face. “You coming?”

She started and followed him, shouldering her pack a little higher. She was still pale, still shaking, still sweaty...but there was a determined set to her shoulder that he knew well. She was going to be okay.

For now.

 


	13. Twelve

A brawl broke out in the tavern just as they entered it. Sokka put himself between her and the flurry of fists that came their way, shouldering one man aside, and grabbing another by the scruff of the neck. He tossed the man back into the fight with a grunt.

“Charming place,” Azula breathed, glancing around the shadowy, dank tavern. The lights were dim, the floor covered in sawdust, bloodstains and spilled beer. The air held the odor of sour, unwashed bodies. It turned her stomach.

“And you say I never take you anywhere fancy,” Sokka said, one side of his mouth quirking up as he glanced at her. She ignored him and peered around the seething brawlers, spotting the stuffed head of a moose-lion on the wall, and the man sitting beneath it.

“There,” she said, gesturing with her chin. Sokka spotted the man too, and together they wove their way toward him. Halfway there, a fighter stumbled out of the melee and rammed into Sokka. He had a broken bottle in his hand and a mean, drunken look on his squashed face.

“Come on, pretty boy!” the man sneered, jabbing the jagged end of the broken bottle at Sokka, but Sokka was already moving. He spun and kicked the bottle out of the man's hand. It shattered against a wooden post.

“Whoops,” Sokka growled. The man grunted and came at Sokka, charging at him head-first. Sokka side-stepped him, grabbed him by the collar of his stained shirt and then tossed him into the wooden post with a sickening crack. The man stopped dead and then slid down the post face-first, unconscious.

Sokka smoothed down his vest and then looked at her with a smug expression on his face. She rolled her eyes and stepped over the man now slumped on the dirty floor, bleeding from his nose.

The man in the corner was watching them, though how she knew that she couldn't say. His bearded face was mostly hidden by a battered red hood pulled low over his eyes and a wreathe of smoke from a pipe clenched in his teeth.

“' _Where there's smoke...'_ ” he grunted after a moment.

“' _There's fire,'_ ” she finished, and he immediately kicked out a chair toward her. She sat down and let her heavy pack slip off of her shoulder and onto the floor, though she grimaced to think of what stains it would pick up. She focused on the man, who drew on his pipe as Sokka sat down beside her.

“You're late,” the man grunted.

“It was a long journey.”

“You came in through the east gate an hour ago,” the man said and she noticed his beard twitch. Sokka drew in a sharp breath that she hoped was lost in the sound of the brawl still going on behind them. “We see everything. Never forget that. Do we have a problem?”

The man's shadowed gaze lingered on Azula and she knew that he had seen, or at least knew about her panic attack in the market. She felt a cold finger run up her spine. She opened her mouth to say something, but Sokka whipped out a knife and jammed it in the table between them.

The movement was so fast and violent that it shocked her.

“I don't know, do we?” Sokka snarled, showing his teeth.

The man eyed the knife, looked between Sokka and herself and then took a puff off of his pipe.

“That remains to be seen. And I've seen plenty.”

“Don't fucking look at her.”

The man cocked his head to the side and cleared his throat. Azula suddenly felt that the man was familiar, but she couldn't place him. It bothered her. “You live up to your reputation, Tazeo.”

“So I've been told.”

The tension between the two men was palpable for a long moment before the man with the pipe let out a breath. “Your task?”

“It's done,” Sokka said shortly, thrusting the scroll they'd stolen across the table at him. She watched as the man tuck the scroll into his shirt without looking at it. “Both tasks. I'm sure the news of the explosion will reach Gei soon.”

Azula, still sweating and feeling shaky, nodded in agreement. She could sense the man's eyes on her again, though they were barely a gleam through the smoke and shadows. He sucked on his pipe, the tobacco glowing for a moment.

She wanted to ask what was on the scroll, and why the Smoke Demons had wanted them to blow up the holding tanks full of natural gas, but she knew he would never answer her. She doubted he even knew the reason anyway. The Smoke Demons expected them to obey blindly, to give to the cause without needing explanations. They were only allowed to know what was necessary.

She hated this part the most, if she were honest with herself. Letting someone else tell her what to do and to blindly follow wasn't her style. It never had been, even before she'd starting seeing things, and hearing voices that weren't there.

She flinched and looked down at her shaky hands. Though her panic attack had passed, she was still feeling the after-affects. She was exhausted. It had been a long night, followed by a long morning traveling to Gei. She needed sleep and food and somewhere quiet, not more intrigue, this man's pipe smoke stinging her eyes and the shouts of the brawl still raging behind them.

The man puffed out a mouthful smoke and reached into his belt. There was another scroll there, sealed with black wax. He tossed it across the table at them, followed by a battered-looking key that clattered across the table.

Sokka caught both the key and the scroll.

“The Dragon's Den, room three. You're booked for tonight,” the man said, and then leveraged himself off of the chair. No one in the tavern noticed him standing. She doubted any of them had noticed them speaking at all; they were too concerned with the fight. Even the barman was watching from the sidelines, taking bets on the fighters.

“That's it?”

The man didn't answer. He just knocked the ashes out of his pipe and onto the table between them, and then swept out of the tavern so fast she nearly blinked and missed it.

“Well, I liked him better than Rian,” she said, blowing her hair out of her face as Sokka scowled and fingered the key in his hands.

“He has people watching us.”

“You mean watching _me_ ,” she said, meeting his gaze as he pulled the knife out of the table and sheathed it on his belt. “You didn't have to threaten him.”

“I didn't like the way he was looking at you. He was threatening you,” he said darkly and then glanced at the fight. One of the men broke a chair over the other's head and roared with drunken laughter, raising his hands and the pieces of wood high into the air. “Come on...”

Together they skulked out of the tavern before they were noticed, but everyone was congratulating the winner and buying a rousing round of drinks, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. As they walked to the Dragon's Den Inn, she noticed Sokka leading them through side streets, avoiding the marketplace.

She watched his back as they walked, thinking of the look in his eyes as he'd calmed her from her panic attack. The feel of his hands on her, grounding her, the world falling away...it confused her. She had never been able to pull herself out of a panic attack before. It had always passed on its own, leaving her raw and listless, wrung out, with missing time that she couldn't account for. She hated that part most of all, when she just...went away.

She hated losing control of herself like that. She had always been in control before, back before her mind had split and the visions had started. Back before her brother had tossed her into a straightjacket. And long before...

But she stopped that thought, feeling sick and sweaty. She didn't want to think about that. She never wanted to think about that.

Sokka's eyes had been so understanding, his voice gentle. As gentle as his hands on her had been. She found herself rubbing her wrists, like he had left a ghost of himself on her skin, which felt hot and tight all of a sudden.

He wanted to help her and for some reason she believed that he was sincere, but how could she let him in? She had already admitted too much, shown him how close to the knife's edge she was, teetering between chaos and control from one breath to the next. She was battered, bruised in places she could never show anyone.

There were things she had done, things she had seen and experienced that she could never even voice...and yet when Sokka looked at her, the words filled her mouth and her heart and she was ready to unravel, spill out before him with her neck and belly bared.

Perhaps the impulse was a madness of its own. Perhaps she had been fighting for too long, her burdens too big for her to carry any longer.

Whatever it was that allowed him to see through her armor, it scared her. He terrified her, but not in a way she could fight. How could you fight something you didn't understand?

Lost in her thoughts, she didn't realize they had arrived at the Dragon's Den Inn until Sokka was holding open the door for her. She walked past him, catching his scent, and breathing in deeply before she caught herself with a start.

The Dragon's Den was several steps up from the shack they'd spent the last two weeks in, but definitely a down-grade from the honeymoon suite. It was small, boasting only a half a dozen rooms, with a tiny common room filled with shabby, squat chairs near a cheerily crackling hearth. The innkeeper glanced at them when they entered, but turned away when he got a good look at Sokka's face.

They found their room on their own, which was fine by her. She had had enough interaction for one day. She was getting more tired by the moment and when Sokka opened the door to the room, she nearly wept to see the neat little bed done up with clean white linens.

She tossed her pack down, toed off her boots and crashed face first against the covers as Sokka closed the door behind her and threw the lock. She heard his pack hit the floor too and felt him sink down onto the bed beside her.

“Just what do you think you're doing?” she said, her voice muffled by the mattress.

“My back is killing me. That pack weighs a ton and my feet are killing me. You know, walking everywhere really makes me miss that smelly fucking air bison. Where's Appa when I need him?”

“Doesn't it get cold up there, flying through the clouds all the time?”

“I'm from the South Pole, I don't know from cold,” he said dryly as she rolled over and propped her head up on her hand. He was laying on his back, his feet on the floor, head pillowed on his clasped hands. “I kinda miss it.”

“The South Pole?”

“Yeah...” he said thoughtfully. “I mean, I'm away a lot anyway. I spend six months in Republic City every year, and the rest in the South Pole. Or traveling. But it's home, and my dad is there. It's always good to see him.”

“Which one feels more like home? Republic City or the South Pole?”

“The south. I'll probably settle there permanently. _Eventually_.”

“I suppose you visit the Fire Nation a lot.”

Sokka glanced at her and then shrugged. “About every three months or so. Or at least I try to. To see Zuko and...and Suki. Of course.”

Her stomach felt sour all of a sudden, or maybe she was just hungry. She sat up and scooted her legs off of the bed. “I'm sure you miss her just as much as you miss the South Pole.”

“Yeah,” he said slowly, staring up at the ceiling. “It's been nearly four weeks since I saw her last. I haven't written to her, and she's bound to have noticed by now. She's probably written me a bunch of letters. Spirits, she probably thinks I'm ignoring her.”

“Why would she think that?”

“We sort of...I don't know, we had a fight before she left. Sort of. It's complicated,” he said, glancing at her. He huffed out a breath. “I don't want to talk about it.”

Azula crossed her arms over her stomach and hunched her shoulders, staring down at the worn bedspread. She bit back the nasty, petty comment she would normally have made and instead said, “She'll understand. She...she loves you.”

“Yeah. Maybe,” he said darkly, making her eyebrows lift. He reached into his vest and pulled out the scroll the hooded man had given them. “So what do you think they've got planned for us?”

The abrupt change of subject made her blink, but she rolled with it. She already knew that Suki was a sore subject for him, and the less they talked about her the better.

“Something dangerous, no doubt.”

Sokka broke the seal on the scroll, unrolled it and scanned the contents. He groaned and put his hand over his eyes, thrusting it at her. She took it and read it with an exhausted sigh.

“Collapsing a coal mine...” she said. “They certainly aren't giving us easy tasks, are they? We're nothing but saboteurs.”

“At least they don't want us to kill anyone.” He paused and then grimaced. “Not yet anyway.”

“And what will we do if they _do_ want us to kill someone?”

Sokka's expression darkened again.

“I don't know. Let's hope we don't have to find out,” he said and then abruptly climbed to his feet and reached into his pack. He pulled out a money pouch jingling with coin. “Listen, I'm going to go get us something to eat. I'll be back.”

She didn't say anything, just watched him slink out the door with his head down and a miserable expression on his face. She sat there for a moment, her mind adrift in a sea of exhaustion and confusion, feeling sour and bitter, but she wasn't entirely sure _why._

It had been a long day.

She eyed the door to the bathing room, trying to will herself to get up, thinking of how good she'd feel after a hot bath. Eventually she gave up and curled up on the bed in a little ball, the scroll clutched in her fingers. She wasn't intending to sleep, but it claimed her anyway, almost the moment she lay down.

She dreamed of Sokka, his hands warm and solid against her skin.

“ _Breathe,”_ he said to her. _“Just breathe...”_

* * *

 

Sokka hesitated at the door to their room, a large bag of food in his hands, the battered room key in the other. He felt nervous all of a sudden, unsure of what he might encounter on the other side of that door.

The waspish and cold Azula who had snarled at him on the ship like an angry snake? The panic-stricken woman with pain in her eyes, screaming at things only she could see? The quiet, withdrawn woman who had avoided him as much as possible at the shack, speaking little, a ghost of a girl he had desperately tried not to touch? Perhaps the determined and bragging woman who had smugly celebrated after the mission? Or the woman who had bared herself to him at her weakest moment, something in her desperate to connect to another human being?

He wasn't sure what he wanted, but he knew that something between them was starting to change. She had reached out to him and that was a start. He could work with that.

But what did he want, precisely? To help her get better? Of course...but he didn't even know how to start doing that. He just knew that he wanted to protect her. Something about her sparked his protective instincts in a way nothing ever had before, and that scared him a little. And confused him.

He hadn't missed the way the hooded man had looked at her. The man had known about Azula's panic attack in the market, and he hadn't been happy about it. He knew that meant nothing good for them. Already Mai and Azula were sure that the Smoke Demons considered Azula useful, but ultimately expendable, though they had lied and told her otherwise. He knew they were right.

Azula was no fool, and neither was Sokka. If Azula proved to be too much of a distraction, if she wavered in her loyalty to the Smoke Demons, or if she failed them in any way, they would kill her. Or at least they would attempt to. He couldn't imagine they'd tolerate Azula showing weakness for long, and they would see her illness as a weakness.

Azula could protect herself, and he knew that, but he had also seen the panic and terror in her eyes when the man in the market place had touched her on accident. How all sense of reality had fled from her in a moment. It hadn't just been her mental illness. It had been the man's touch, too. The invisible threat, some vengeful ghost.

All an assassin would have to do was get too close to her, and she would be ripe for the picking. Nursing that dark thought, he unlocked the door and stepped inside.

“I got some supplies,” he said and then looked up. He stopped dead in his tracks, staring at Azula, who was asleep on the bed.

She looked so tiny, curled up in the middle of the bed, her legs drawn in to her chest, her fingers curled against the covers, the scroll scrunched in her palm.

A little smile tugged on his lips as he set the food down beside their packs and then switched the covers over her as best he could. She stirred, her lips opening slightly as he smoothed the blanket down. She didn't wake.

Sokka bit down on his lip and stood back, watching her for a long moment, feeling a tightness in his chest as he remembered the shake in her voice as she'd admitted to him what he had already known. She had been so lost in that moment, desperate to connect. Desperate enough to allow him to touch her.

His jaw tightened. If someone wanted to hurt her, they would have to go through him to get to her. He understood why he felt protective of her, but the reality was...she confused him. A lot.

He needed a drink.

He forced out a sigh, running his hand down his face as he turned back to the door and quietly crept out, careful to lock the door behind him. There was a tavern a few doors down from the Dragon's Den Inn, a clean and bright place filled with farmers and tradespeople laughing and joking with one another. It was a far cry from the tavern where they'd met their contact.

It was definitely not the kind of place a brawl was likely to happen.

The beer was watered down, but it tasted all right. No one paid him any attention as he downed a few mugs, letting the buzz of the alcohol wash over him. He let his mind wander, scowling into his beer, wondering what he was going to do...how was he going to help Azula... Where did he even start?

His thoughts lingered on Suki as well. He wanted to write to her, but he knew it was too dangerous yet. Still...

He wasn't aware of the group of men on his left until their laughter broke him out of his dark thoughts. He glanced at them, wondering what they could be laughing at so uproariously.

“I heard he lets all of them sleep in his bedchambers,” one of the men said. “Had a big bed made for them, especially. They say he had the headboard carved to resemble a great big pair of tits.”

Sokka glanced at the men as they whooped with ribald laughter.

“You'd think the Fire Lord would have enough tits with ten painted up Earth Kingdom concubines sharing his bed!”

“And a different girl every night!”

The men laughed again, slapping each other on the back as heat suffused Sokka's face. He tightened his grip on his mug, feeling a churning rage growing in him.

“Yeah, but he's got his favorite and everyone knows it. The captain of his guard, they say.”

Sokka swallowed, staring at his beer, his blood rushing in his ears.

“I heard they were caught fucking on the throne. She was bouncing in his lap wearing nothing but a fan!”

Sokka's teeth bared, his blood was roaring now, rage filling him and the mental image too vivid to be ignored.

“Nahh...that's impossible,” one of the men snorted.

“What makes you say that?”

“Fire Lord ain't got a throne! Sits on a dais doesn't he?”

“Oh, my fucking apologies!” the first man snorted, waving his beer at his friends. “They were caught fucking on a _dais_.”

“The Fire Lord's a lucky man, with a whore like that at his beck and call.”

“She's not a whore. She's a Kyoshi Warrior,” Sokka snarled, glaring at the men as his voice cut through their laughter. They all stared at him, the amusement fading from their expressions. They eyed his tattoos, the bandage on his arm, and the anger in his eyes.

“No one asked you, stranger. Mind your own fucking business.”

Sokka glared at the men and they glared right back.

He knew he should let it go. He had heard these rumors before, and they were only getting more outlandish. They meant nothing.

_Nothing._

Except a part of him didn't believe that. A part of him didn't believe that at all. And it just angered him even more. His worry over Azula, and the confusion and tension he felt fell away.His worry over not being able to contact Suki just fueled his outrage. _Anger_ he understood. And he was _angry._

He should back down though. He was supposed to be keeping a low profile, after all. They had just become terrorists. The Smoke Demons were watching their every move. He should let it go. _Sokka_ would have let it go.

But Tazeo wouldn't, and wasn't he supposed to be Tazeo?

“Aww, what the hell?” Sokka mumbled, taking a bracing swig of beer. Then he whipped his arm around, shattering his mug on the nearest man's head with a splash of beer and a burst of blood.

And then all hell broke loose.


	14. Thirteen

Azula woke up to find the room empty, though there was a bulging bag of food near their packs that told her that Sokka had come and gone. Worry gnawed at her as she glanced at the door, wondering where he might have gone.

A thousand thoughts ran through her head. Maybe he had been attacked. Maybe he had left her. Maybe the army had tracked them to the shack, and then to Gei.

Chewing on her lip, she paced the room, considering going out and looking for him. The sun was starting to go down, shining red and orange streaks through the window that overlooked the inn's back courtyard.

She had just about made up her mind to go looking for him when she heard the key in the lock. The door opened and Sokka staggered into the room, bringing with him the smell of alcohol. She gasped as he lifted his head, revealing a swollen, bruised eye and a bloodied lip.

“Hey, Princess,” he slurred with a crooked grin that showed blood on his teeth.

Azula started toward him, but stopped, feeling her blood running cold. “What happened to you?”

“A minor disagreement with four gentleman at a tavern,” Sokka said with a bite to his voice, his words running together. “I kicked their asses.”

“Really?” she said, brow rising as she took in his swollen eye, which was the color of an eggplant, and the blood dripping onto his shirt.

“Well...they gotta few good licks in,” he said dismissively and then stumbled trying to close the door. “Whoop.”

“You're drunk.”

“I'm na'drunk,” Sokka slurred, turning back to face her again, his eyes unfocused. “I'm sober 's a...a sober guy that's na'drunk.”

And then he promptly fell face-first to the floor, the thud vibrating through the floor. Azula flinched and went over to him. She hesitated and then rolled him over onto his back. He was breathing, at least.

“Wake up, Sokka,” she said, lightly slapping his cheek. “Hey! Wake up!”

She hit him a little harder, but he just let out a sawing snore that made her flinch. She stared at him a moment and then let out an exasperated sigh.

Great. This was just what she needed.

“It would serve you right if you had a concussion or something,” she said, feeling through his hair, but there was no blood on his scalp or a lump that she could feel. He went right on sleeping as she got up and went into the bathing room, where she got a wet wash cloth.

She grabbed one of the pillows off of the bed as she passed and sank down beside him, pushing the pillow beneath his head. Then she started dabbing at the blood on his mouth.

“Just when I start thinking you're not a complete idiot, you go and get into a drunken bar fight,” she mumbled as he snorted on the floor. “But _you_ are an idiot, Sokka. Telling me that you understand, that you want to help me...when anyone with half a brain would have left me in that market place. They would have left me in that inn that night. But not you, and I don't understand why.”

She gently pressed the blood-stained compress to his swollen eye, but he didn't wake. Her other hand lifted, pushing his tangled hair out of his dark face. She tilted her head, studying his face for a moment. Despite the blood and the black eye...he was handsome.

Well, she had always known that. Though her old life seemed like it had happened to someone else, she remembered all too well seeing him at the side of the Avatar. Even when he'd been a ridiculous, skinny teenage boy, she had not failed to notice just how blue his eyes were.

She had clocked him as a threat the first time they'd met, and not just because of how annoyingly handsome he was—not that she cared about that—but because she knew a warrior when she met one. She had recognized the sharp mind behind those crystal blue eyes. He was smart, sly, and a strategist. Of all of his friends, even the Avatar or his Waterbending sister who had bested her when Zuko hadn't, it was Sokka she had always been most wary of.

Sokka was dangerous, and in ways she was entirely unprepared for. She found herself studying his battered face, stroking his hair back from his forehead. Touching him. Catching herself, she snatched her hand back, scowling.

It had been so long since she'd let anyone touch her, and today she had allowed him to put his hands on her so many times, and now she was touching him of her own accord, aching to feel the heat of his skin against hers... What was wrong with her?

What was it about him that got past her defenses, despite herself? She didn't want to let him in. She had vowed never to let anyone in...and yet she had... Why? What was wrong with her?

Azula pulled back the compress and shook her head. He was a mess and a drunk, but he hadn't run from her when she'd opened up to him and that counted for something. With a grunt, she rolled him over on his side so that he wouldn't choke if he threw up, then got a blanket from his pack and tossed it over him.

“When you wake up, we're going to have a little talk about your drinking habits,” she groused. Sokka didn't answer.

* * *

 

Sokka wanted to die.

He stood in the shower, head hanging as hot water sluiced down his neck and shoulders, one hand braced on the grimy tiles. His right eye throbbed, the bruised skin tender and raw, with a faint contusion around the edges that would linger for days. At least the swelling had gone down a little. Not much, but enough that he could see out of his eye. Vision was overrated, however, as there was a blinding headache aching behind his eyes and bursting through his temples.

He shouldn't have started that fight and he knew it. It had been a stupid thing to do, dangerous, and pointless. Just because they had been talking about Suki...

But he didn't want to remember the crass things they had been saying. It just made him angry all over again.

Suki was at the palace right now, with _th_ _at bastard_ , and here he was, holed up in a hotel room with Azula. Where the hell had his life gone off track?

He breathed out and put his forehead against the tiles. He wasn't being fair and he knew it. It wasn't Azula's fault, any of it. Just because he was confused...just because he missed his girlfriend, who was definitely _not_ cheating on him with the Fire Lord...

His fist lashed out and he punched the tiles until they cracked and clattered into the chipped bathtub. It didn't make him feel better. He hadn't thought that it would.

He turned off the water when it started getting cold, climbed out and wrapped a towel around his waist. A glance in the foggy mirror over the sink just made him grimace. The bruise looked even worse than it felt.

A knock fell on the door and Azula's muffled voice said, “Are you alive in there?”

“Barely,” he said, swinging the door open. Azula's honey-colored eyes widened, sliding from his face to his bare chest, down to the towel wrapped around his narrow hips and then back up to meet his eyes before darting away again. Her cheeks went a little pink. She looked acutely annoyed.

“What are you doing?”

“Forgot my clothes,” he said, leaning against the door frame. He lifted a hand and gingerly touched his bruised face. He grimaced as pain twinged through his battered flesh.

“You look terrible.”

“Mistakes were made. Regret is being had,” he admitted, rubbing at his throbbing temples. She pursed her lips and crossed her arms over her chest, reminding him forcibly of his sister. He was pretty sure neither woman would invite the comparison.

“Why did you get into a fight?”

He waved his hand at her. “Reasons.”

“ _Sokka_.”

Blowing out a breath, he shrugged. “They were saying some unrepeatable things. Some rumors...about Zuko. And... And Suki.”

Her mouth rounded in understanding, and she suddenly looked uncomfortable. “Oh. And you believed them?”

“What? NOI I just—I—you didn't hear what they were saying. It was disgusting. They called Suki a whore.”

“Well, what else do you call someone who cheats on their boyfriend?”

His mouth fell open. “Excuse me? Don't you dare call her that! You've been making snide remarks about Suki since we started this trip and I'm tired of it! She is not a whore and she is _not_ cheating on me!”

“Then remember that the next time some drunken moron starts repeating one of those idiotic rumors! That's all they are, Sokka! Rumors! Aren't they?”

He opened his mouth again, but snapped it closed. He couldn't look her in the eye. “Yeah. They're just some stupid rumors.”

“Then get over it and stop feeling sorry for yourself.”

“I don't feel—”

“Yes, you do. Is that why you were drunk?”

“No! I just wanted a drink. No big deal,” he said defensively. “I can handle a few beers.”

“You passed out on the floor.”

“Don't worry about it,” he said, pushing off of the door frame. “I made a mistake last night. It won't happen again.”

He pushed past her, careful not to touch her again. She let him go, watching as he clutched the towel and walked over his pack. He pulled clothing out and turned on her.

“They're watching us, Sokka. If they think you're a liability...”

“ _I'm_ a liability? Princess--” he started, incredulous, and then held up his hands. “Look, it's part of Tazeo's charm, okay? Mai's profile said he liked to drink and fight. I'm just living up to to his rep. If the Smoke Demons are watching us that closely it's important I play the part. We can't let them suspect that I'm not who I say I am.”

“Are you honestly trying to justify getting into a drunken bar fight over the honor of a girl you—Tazeo—shouldn't even care about?”

“Hey, Tazeo's a bar fight kind of a guy,” he said churlishly.

“Well, I don't like Tazeo very much,” she said quietly, staring at the floor. “He's an asshole.”

“Can't argue with that,” he replied, sailing into the bathing room and slamming the door closed behind him. His mood soured even more as he pulled on his clothing.

They didn't speak to one another as they packed up and left the inn. They hadn't discussed their next assignment yet, but the scroll they had been given had included directions to another safe house on an outer island. It would take two days of hard travel to reach it, but Sokka thought the more distance they put between themselves and the army garrison they'd blown up, the better.

His hangover persisted throughout the first day, his bad mood aided by the coldness coming off of Azula in waves. It seemed that the understanding they had reached before his little drunken brawl had shattered.

He felt guilty about that. The fact that they had been getting along, even for a moment, that they had been able to actually speak to one another like human beings, friends even, had been a huge leap. Now they were back to silences and cold shoulders.

He felt incredibly frustrated with her all of a sudden. Why did she care that he'd had a few drinks? It wasn't like he'd murdered someone or something. What was the big deal? Hadn't he shown her that he was willing to reach out to her, that he was trying to understand what she was going through? And she had the nerve to get angry with him for having a beer?

He couldn't win for trying.

They made camp in a little copse of trees just before sundown. The blue skies and warm weather had faded as the day had gone on, with gray clouds crowding in, threatening rain. Wordlessly, he put up their little tent as Azula started a fire with the wood she'd collected and then started on dinner.

He was a little surprised at that; so far he had been making all of their meals, and then forcing her to eat them. She seemed entirely disinterested in food otherwise.

When he silently dipped out a bowl full of scorched and tasteless rice, he let out a dry chuckle.

Azula looked up from half-heartedly picking at her own portion and squinted at him over the fire.

“What's so funny?”

“If all you've had to eat is your own cooking, then I'm starting to understand why you're so damned skinny,” he said with a grin.

Her face fell into a blank, angry mask and she dropped her chopsticks into her bowl with a clatter, then tossed it down on the ground, scattering the rice everywhere. “If you don't like it, don't eat it.”

“I didn't say that... Well, I am saying that. You're a lousy cook, Azula,” he said with a grin, but she didn't return the expression. He realized with a sinking feeling that she didn't find it as funny as he did.

“Maybe you should just drink your meal instead?” she said with disgust and gestured to the fire. The cheerily crackling flames instantly turned into a towering bonfire. Sokka reeled back from the blaze, falling off of the log he'd been perched on, his burned rice falling everywhere.

The flames died down again, as he picked himself up off of the ground. He growled and looked up at Azula, but she had ducked into the tent already.

He tossed his bowl aside, scowling as he swiped the rice off of his chest and neck. He could see her silhouette through the canvas wall of the tent, illuminated by the lantern she had lit. She got into her bed roll after only a few minutes and the light faded to nothing.

Sokka cleaned up the camp and then sat by the warm fire, trying to keep the chill off, his mood as dark as the night. The air was turning bitterly cold as it descended around him. The fire had burned down to coals when he felt the first drops of rain.

By the time he got into the tent, the promised rainstorm had unleashed, dumping buckets of icy cold rain down on them. Azula was curled up on her side facing away from him, the blanket over her head.

She didn't stir while he kicked off his boots and climbed into his own bedroll. He faced away from her, feeling as sour as he had that morning. He slowly drifted off to sleep, lulled by the familiar sound of the rain on the canvas.

He was awoken with a start a few hours later, tumbling out of half-remembered dreams in which he, Toph, Aang and Katara were desperately attempting to keep the Fire Nation palace from sinking into the desert while Suki and Zuko embraced on the moon. He was instantly alert, pulling a knife from beneath his pillow as the sound of a desperate, terrified wail filled the tent.

His heart lurched as he dropped the knife and rolled over to face Azula, who was thrashing in her sleeping bag, desperate pleas leaving her mouth. She looked tortured in the darkness, her brow furrowed, head digging into her pillow, sweat popping out on her skin.

“No... Stop... _Please,_ it hurts... The dirt...can't breathe... I can't move...” she mumbled, her voice broken on a sob. Sokka's guts tightened as he reached out a hand and then stopped himself. He didn't know what to do, but then the memory of her scorching the sheets in the inn during her last nightmare hit him. If she let lose her Firebending in the tent...

“Azula... Azula, wake up,” Sokka said, touching her shoulder. He shook her a little, but she merely thrashed in place, moaning. Outside, the wind had started to howl around them, lashing the tent with rain. “Come on, wake up, Princess.”

“PLEASE!” she sobbed and then screamed, her body bowing in place. Sokka scooped his hand under her head, scooting closer as he lifted her against his chest. He held her close, shaking her again.

“It's just a dream, Azula. I need you to wake up, okay? Wake up... WAKE UP!”

“NO!” her voice broke, her arms lashing out in what he recognized as a Firebending form. His arm clamped down on hers before she could conjured any flames, and the pressure of his embrace instantly broke her out of her nightmare.

She let loose an animal sound and writhed in his arms. She struck out with her elbow, jabbing him in the throat, her other hand clawing at his arm. He cried out, choking, and let go of her, but she twisted around, launching herself at him with a snarl.

“AZULA, IT'S ME!” he coughed as she scratched at his face. He caught her hand but she fought him, shoving him onto his back and straddling him with one knee on his throat. She caught both of his hands and pinned them beside his head.

He could have thrown her off. He was stronger and he outweighed her. But he didn't. Instead he took in a strangled breath and then relaxed beneath her. He would not fight her.

“Azula, it's me. It was just a dream,” he strangled out. “I won't hurt you.”

She was breathing hard, her hair wild around her face as she put pressure on his throat and his wrists. It took a few moments for his words to sink in through her terror, but she finally let out a shuddering breath, her arms shaking.

“Sokka?”

“Yeah...” he gagged. “You're chokin' me, Princess.”

“You attacked me.”

“I didn't,” he said, his fingers twitching as his head spun. “I...woke you up...”

“It... It was a dream?”

“Yeah. You're...you're safe. No one is going to hurt you.”

“It was just a dream,” she whispered in relief and let up on his throat. She sank to the side and curled up in a ball. “I thought you were... But it wasn't real.”

Sokka sat up, rubbing at his throat. He coughed and stared at her dark form beside him in the tent. Hesitantly, he reached out and touched her shoulder. She jumped and then relaxed, letting a soft sound escape her.

When she reached up and took his hand, he thought that she might toss it off of her, but she gripped his fingers instead, holding on tightly as her breathing evened out and the trembling stopped.

“Are you okay?” he asked gently.

“I just tried to choke you to death and you're asking if I'm okay? You're an idiot.”

“So I've been told,” he said with a slight smile that faded instantly. “Was it bad?”

“It's always bad,” she mumbled so softly he almost missed it over the pounding rain.

He licked his lips, studying her form in the darkness. “If you want to talk about it, I want you to know that I'll listen. To anything. You can trust me.”

Azula half-turned to face him and he could see her eyes glittering in the dark for a moment. Then she let go of his hand and rolled back over to face the tent wall.

“No, I can't.”

“Azula...”

“Go back to sleep, Sokka. We have a long day ahead of us.”

There were a thousand things he wanted to say, and a million more that he was afraid to. He stared at her in the darkness, feeling heart sore, confused, frustrated and sad. He'd thought he was getting through to her, he was sure of it, but now...

Now he didn't know what to do.

She didn't move, but he knew that she was only feigning sleep. He lay there too, listening to the rain as it slowed and then stopped altogether. When the cold gray light of a dreary dawn broke over them, they got up at the same time and prepared to leave the camp.

They didn't speak a single word to one another.


	15. Fourteen

The safe house was an old coal storage barn, long abandoned and covered in a layer of black dust from the coal it used to house. The roof was at least intact, but the wooden walls were sagging. They could hear vermin scurrying away from them as they opened the heavy rolling door, letting in a shaft of light that illuminated the dreary insides.

There was an empty loft, some rusted buckets used to transport the coal from the mine a few miles away, and not much else. At least there was a small creek that ran beside the storage barn, so they wouldn't be short of water. They had brought a week's worth of food with them, and if they were going to be here any longer than that they would have to go to the nearest village to buy more.

She hoped they wouldn't have to. The less opportunities they gave for someone to connect a pair of strangers in the area to the collapse of the coal mine, the better. Their contact's information on the job had included instructions not to be caught. She could see the sense in that.

It would be hard to get anything done if they were wanted criminals, after all.

Still, she didn't like this. She had been unsure what the Smoke Demons would have her and Sokka doing in the Fire Nation, but she hadn't thought wanton destruction was what they had in mind. Blowing up a few tanks was one thing, but destroying the livelihood of an entire village...

Most of the residents of Black Rock Island worked at one of several coal mines dotted across the island. The mines here were deep and old; their people had been pulling the black stone out of the earth for centuries to heat their homes and power their ships.

Destroying just one mine wouldn't cripple the Fire Nation. It wouldn't stop the Army from powering their ships, so why would the Smoke Demons want it destroyed? What was the strategy behind this move?

At best, the destruction of the mine would cause a coal shortage, which the Nation would eventually recover from. At worst, this would hurt the locals who depended on the work in the mines to put food on their tables. So why?

She couldn't fathom the inner workings of the terrorist group at all. The whole thing bothered her.

As she toed the floor of the storage barn, creating little swirling patterns in the black dust, she chewed on her bottom lip, lost in thought. Sokka was looking around with a thoughtful expression on his face as well. She wanted to ask what he was thinking.

She didn't.

They hadn't spoken much on the journey, not since he had rescued her from one of her nightmares, and she had repaid him by trying to choke him to death. Regret filled her. He had tried to reach out to her, he had been doing so for weeks...and she'd pushed him away.

Just like she always pushed everyone and everything away from her.

He didn't press her, but kept his distance. He was careful not to touch her again, and she found herself aching in the middle, thinking of how warm and steady his hands were, and how he had soothed the terror out of her in the marketplace with his touch and his voice.

Misery clung to her. She had ruined whatever connection they had been forging, and she doubted it could be healed. Even if she wanted it to. This was what was best for the both of them. He couldn't help her. She wouldn't let him, and he was a fool to try.

Sokka climbed a rusted steel ladder up into the loft and tossed his pack down. “We should sleep up here. There's not as much dust.”

She nodded and climbed up the ladder after him. He was right. The floor was filthy, but there was significantly less dust than down below. Still, she didn't relish sleeping there. She'd wake up covered in soot. She already felt filthy from their journey.

Tossing her pack down, she got out one of her water skins, which was half-empty. She didn't say anything to Sokka as she started climbing back down the ladder, but she could see him watching her out the corner of his eye.

Stepping out into the crisp sunlight, she took a deep breath to steady herself, and walked over to the overgrown, weed-choked creek, which was swollen with water from the rains that had plagued them on and off on the journey across the islands. They had avoided people, mostly, taking the ferries between the islands only when there were crowds to get lost in, so that they would just be another pair of faces. The journey across Black Rock had been uneventful.

And tense.

As she crouched down on the bank of the gushing and rushing creek, she took the cap off of her water skin, and dipped it into the water, letting the current fill it. She didn't bother to cap it, but took a long drink of the cold water. Then she filled it again, capped it and sank down onto the edge of the creek, too tired suddenly to move. She ran her hand over the browning weeds at the edge of the creek, pulling at the grass as she let her mind wander, enjoying the quiet.

She glanced back at the storage barn, set back in a meadow of sorts, with scrubby trees lining the meadow on all four sides. The road to the barn was overgrown. It probably hadn't been used in twenty years. No one was likely to find them there.

As she sat there, Azula realized just how much her skin was crawling with the dust and dirt from their journey. She hadn't bathed since the inn in Gei.

A thorny bush by the creek still had most of its leaves, though they looked crunchy to the touch. Standing, she grabbed the water skin, and ducked behind the bush. Toeing off her boots first, she quickly undressed, putting her dirty clothing in a careless pile beneath the bush. She tore her hair down from the twisted bun she'd put it in hours ago, and let it spill down her shoulders.

The water was freezing cold when she stepped into it, mud squishing between her toes, but she didn't care. She waded into the middle of the creek, slipping on rocks until she was knee-deep in it.

She started splashing water onto her skin, using handfuls of sand to scrub as much of the dirt and dust off of her as she could. She used her water skin to rinse her hair, feeling each rivulet of water cascading down her goose-pimpled skin like little tongues of ice.

Her hands smoothed over her skin, feeling the raise of the scars on her thighs, on her stomach, on her arms. She eyed the stitched cuts on her arm, and realized that the stitches needed to come out. Sharing first a room, and then a tent with Sokka, she hadn't had an opportunity to look at them since their last safe house.

Feeling weary, she realized she would have to invent some excuse to get some privacy somewhere so that she could take them out... Turning over the opportunities in her mind, she turned around with a slosh—and found herself staring into Sokka's eyes as he stepped around the bush and stopped dead in his tracks.

Alarm showed on his face for a single heartbeat that felt to her like a lifetime. Then he whipped around, his face bright red in an instant. She noticed that he had a dead rabbiroo in his hand, a bloody knife in the other.

“I'm so sorry!”

“GET AWAY!” she said, covering herself as best she could, but it wasn't her nudity that she was trying to cover. It was the scars. She couldn't let him see.

“I'm sorry, I didn't know! I was worried about you and I—I'm sorry!” he said and then promptly jogged back up to the storage barn, leaving her to wobble in the creek, her own face just as red as his had been.

By the time she pulled her clothes back on the sun was going down. She lingered outside the barn, chewing on her lip and running her hand through her wet hair. She didn't want to face him. What had he seen?

Steeling herself, she walked into the barn with her head held high. Sokka was seated on an overturned bucket, a fire going in another bucket before him. He had fashioned a spit out of some old metal, and was slowly turning the skinned rabbiroo over the fire. The smell of the roasting meat hit her immediately and she realized how hungry she was, and how long it had been since those meager handfuls of nuts they'd had for lunch.

“I...um...” Sokka started, looking up as she walked into the barn. He gestured to the fire. “It's not ready yet, but it should make a decent meal.”

She nodded and went up the ladder to the loft. Sokka had already laid out their bedrolls, on opposites sides of the loft, as far from each other as they could get. He was probably tired of being woken from sleep by her nightmares.

She sat down on her sleeping bag and started pulling everything out of her pack, even though it was already organized as neatly as she could get it. She just wanted to avoid Sokka and she knew it. After a half-hour of packing and repacking her bag, she heard Sokka coming up the ladder. His head peeked over the edge of the loft and his eyes found hers.

A hesitant smile crossed his lips. “Hey.”

“Hey,” she said softly, though her heart was banging in her chest, wondering what he had seen at the creek.

He ducked his face down, resting just his nose on the edge of the loft until it scrunched up adorably. How a man that big could look adorable—and why she would even think that—was beyond her. She felt slightly annoyed at how cute he looked, even as she noticed how guilty he looked too.

“I'm sorry about earlier.” He sounded absolutely contrite, almost ashamed. “It was an accident.”

“I know,” she said, staring down at her lap as she ran her hands over her singed green robe, twisting the belt up in her fingers. “I'm not angry.”

“But you _ar_ _e_ angry with me,” he said, climbing another rung and wrapping his arms around the top of the ladder.

“I'm not angry,” she repeated.

“See now, when a woman says she's not angry that just means she's plotting your murder and she doesn't want it to seem premeditated,” Sokka said, though the little smile on his lips took the bite out his words.

Azula rolled her eyes. “I imagine you've angered a lot of women in your time then.”

“It's a talent of mine,” he admitted with a quirk of his eyebrow. “That and putting my foot in my mouth.”

“Truer words have never been spoken.”

Sokka huffed out a sound that was almost a laugh as he nodded and rested his chin on his tattooed arms. He watched her for a moment with his blue eyes all somber. “Azula, I'm tryin' here.”

She swallowed and ducked her head. “I know you are, but you shouldn't.”

“How about you let me be the judge of that? I think we could be friends. I want us to be friends. I want you to trust me.”

“You don't understand...I don't think I can.” She looked up and met his gaze again.

Sokka stared at her for a long moment, his head still resting on his arms as he stood on the ladder. Then he nodded and flattened his lips. “Maybe not right now, but eventually you could.”

“Why do you care?”

“You remind me of someone I knew once. I tried to help that person, but I couldn't, not really,” Sokka said slowly. “I felt so helpless, so damned _useless_ , and I made a promise to myself that if I could do something to help someone else in the future, I would.”

“You don't have to pretend to care about me out of some misplaced guilt,” she said warningly, but his brow furrowed.

“It's not that,” he said, shaking his head. “And I'm not pretending. I know we started out this journey kind of roughly. We were thrown together into a situation neither one of us really wanted to be in. We barely know each other, too...and well, we have a pretty nasty history. No denying it...but that was all a long time ago and I'm willing to forget that if you are. We're going to be on this trip for a while. The way I see it, we can do it in sullen silences, cold shoulders, and snarky comments. _Or_ we could be friends. I know which one I'd prefer.”

“Sokka--”

“Just think about it, okay? I won't push you...when you're ready I'll still be here. _Princess_ ,” he said with a respectful dip of his head and started to climb down the ladder. Then he stopped and poked his head back up. “Oh, and supper's done.”

Then he disappeared down the ladder, leaving her to stare after him, the green robe gathered against her chest for protection.

Protection from what, though?

But she knew all too well.

* * *

 

Azula came down and sat in front of the fire a few minutes later. When he handed her a roasted leg dripping in fat and juices, she thanked him in a shy voice. And then she smiled a little at him.

It wasn't much, but it was progress. He let out an inner sigh of relief as he took another leg for himself, tearing at the juicy meat, his stomach screaming at him. Azula ate her her leg with more delicacy, though she had to be just as hungry as he was.

She let her damp hair fall forward, hiding her face as she gazed into the fire burning in the bucket between them. He tried not to stare at her, but he wondered what was going on in her head. If what he'd said had taken hold in her.

He had meant every word, though there were so many things he _hadn't_ said to her, so many questions that he wanted to voice. He knew that if he did, however, there would be no fixing the rift that would form between them.

If he pushed her too far, too fast, she would run. He just had to be patient, which had never been his strong suit. Still, he was going to try.

It took all of his strength not to reach across the fire though, to reach across the gulf between them and pull back her sleeve so that he could see the scars on her arms. He had seen them before, when her sleeves had fallen back enough to reveal them. She had quickly hidden them again, though. Questions about the scars had been living in the back of his mind for weeks, but there had been so much to do, so much else to deal with that he had let them stay there.

But he couldn't ignore them now. He had gotten a good look at them when he'd come around that bush and seen her knee-deep in the creek. That was a mental image he wouldn't soon forget, try as he might to forget it.

Pale skin, ribs showing, hollow hips, firm, round breasts, a crown of dark hair at her thighs... And the scars. They were everywhere, all over her thighs, crisscrossing on her ribs and up and down her forearms like battle scars. They were so small. Some of them were stitched with black thread, which meant that they were recent.

What were they? How had she gotten them? Why hadn't he known she had been injured? Was it something she had done in her sleep, during one of her nightmares?

He didn't know. He was afraid to ask, to spook her. It was a mystery he intended to solve though.

Feeling a little sick, worry gnawing at his gut, he finished his rabbiroo leg and cut a chunk off of the carcass. Azula took the large piece he offered her, wiping at her greasy lips with her sleeve.

“Thank you, this is delicious.”

“The only thing I can cook is meat,” he said grimly. She looked at him, puzzled. He cleared his throat and took a drink from his water skin. “I made fun of your cooking the other night. Well, I cook meat and that's it, so I don't have much room to talk. I'm sorry about that, I thought I was being funny, but I was just being a jerk.”

“You were right though. I can't cook,” she said, shaking her head as she picked off bits of the meat with her fingers. “Never had a reason to learn, until I was on my own. I've never gotten the knack. I just burn everything.”

“So what did you do all those years?”

She glanced at him, blanching, but then her face relaxed at the earnest look on his face. She shrugged. “I traveled through the Earth Kingdom. I never stayed any place long.”

“What did you do for money? Food?”

Her gaze was far away for a moment, and then she ducked her head, picking at the meat again. “I took guard jobs sometimes, mostly jewel merchants that wanted some Firebending muscle for protection. I worked in a blacksmith's shop once.”

A smile crossed his lips. “I've done a little blacksmithing myself. It's hard work. No offense, but I can't really see you enjoying it much.”

She tilted her head, as if in agreement, but said, “I didn't. It was hard, hot and filthy.”

“Sounds like my kind of fun,” he said, waggling his eyebrows. She caught his meaning and blushed a little. Her hand fell in front of her mouth to hide her smile. “So what did you do at the shop?”

“Mostly I hauled things around, and worked the bellows. I wasn't good at it, but the blacksmith was desperate after his apprentice ran off and got married, and I was the only one willing to work for the same pay.”

“Why did you leave?”

The amusement died in her eyes and she looked down into the fire for a long moment. He realized instantly what might have happened. “There was an...incident. It was best that I leave after that.”

“Did you hurt someone?”

“No...but I could have. I'm dangerous, Sokka.”

“Maybe you are, but the look in your eyes tells me that you don't want to be. That you care.”

“I didn't always,” she said softly and then looked him in the eyes. “I tried to kill the Avatar. My brother. Your sister. I was horrible to the only friends I've ever had. I tortured and tormented all of you, and when I found out my father was going to burn the Earth Kingdom to the ground, I didn't try to stop him. I'm not a good person.”

“That was a long time ago.”

“It still happened.”

“Do you regret it, any of it?”

She looked down at the rabbiroo meat in her hands. “I don't know. Everything from back then is a jumble in my head. Some things I remember wrong. Or at least I think I remember them wrong. And some things... Some things I wish I didn't remember.”

She squeezed her eyes shut tight, as if that could block out her memories.

“I don't think you're a bad person, Azula. For what it's worth. I think...your father was a particularly vicious bastard who did a number on both of his kids, and in totally different ways. That's not your fault. It's what you do _now_ that matters. It's the choices you make now.”

“I've made some terrible choices, Sokka.”

“Then do better,” he said simply, wiping his greasy hands on his pants.

“That's easy for you to say. Look at your life. You have a family, someone who loves you, friends, people you trust. Me? I have nothing.”

“You have me.”

She looked at him sadly, shaking her head. “I'm not ready to believe that.”

“It's true whether you believe it or not. I'm not going to let anyone or anything hurt you. Not even yourself,” he said and glanced at her arm, where he knew her scars were lying hidden. She noticed where his gaze had fallen and started, squeezing her forearm reflexively.

A dark expression fell across her fire-lit eyes like a shadow. Then she shook her head again.

“We can try,” she said slowly, meeting his gaze after a long moment. “To be friends, we can try.”

“Okay,” he said with a nod and then took a bracing breath and half-lurched up from the fire, reaching out and holding out his hand to her. “My name's Sokka of the Water Tribe. I enjoy boating, hot tubbing, meat, science, shopping, and painting. My favorite color is blue, I hate the word 'moist', and my girlfriend is probably banging your brother. Also, you can call me Tazeo. Or Sexy Muscle Guy, if you prefer.”

Azula's eyebrows had climbed steadily during his speech, but by the end there was amusement sparkling in her eyes. She put her hand over her mouth to hide her smile again and took his hand with a firm shake.

“Nice to meet you,” she said warmly. “I'm Princess Azula of the Fire Nation and I don't like the word 'moist' either.”

“It's a disgusting word,” he grimaced and then drew out the word, his nostrils flaring. “M-o-i-s-t. So unsavory.”

Her laugh tumbled through the air and he grinned, watching her, feeling a warmth in his chest that made his head spin. He couldn't account for it. Maybe he just liked to see her smile that shy smile that she tried to hide behind her hand.

 _It's a start,_ he thought as he handed her another piece of roasted rabbiroo and watched her tuck in. _At least it's a start._


	16. Fifteen

Azula skidded down the gravel embankment with more grace than Sokka had managed, keeping upright as a shower of coal-dusted rocks tumbled down around his boots. She landed at the bottom and tossed her hair out of her eyes.

She looked nervous as she eyed the dark, gated entrance to the coal mine, yawning wide before them like a demon's mouth. Shadows clung to everything. All he could hear was his own heartbeat, and the distance hoot of some kind of night bird.

“Are we sure there's no one in there?” Azula whispered beside him.

“Yeah, the last shift ended at sundown,” Sokka said, glancing at her. Her eyes were huge in the darkness. He reached out and touched her arm. “You okay?”

She started a little, but he didn't think it was his touch that had spooked her. “I'm fine. Let's just do this fast before we get caught.”

“I haven't heard a girl say that to me since I was a teenager,” he said as she lifted an eyebrow at him.

“Oh, I'm sure 'fast' has never been a problem for you.”

“You'd be surprised, Princess.”

“Doubtful,” she drawled as he chuckled at her. He stopped when he saw her eying the entrance to the mine again.

His teeth clamped on the inside of his lip for a moment as he watched a shiver course over her. “Look...why don't you stay out there and keep an eye out? We don't want to get trapped in there.”

At the mention of being trapped, Azula swallowed hard, her eyes darting to the entrance and back to the ground. “You shouldn't go in there alone.”

“I'll be fine. We're not blowing this thing up until we figure out where the weakest part of the mine tunnel is and we can't do that unless I get a good look at the place,” he said, catching her eye again. “I need you to keep watch.”

She licked her lips, looking torn, and then she nodded. “Okay, but twenty minutes and then you're out.”

“Twenty minutes,” he agreed, and took the lantern from her. “If someone comes...”

“I'll signal you.”

“Don't engage unless you have to,” he said firmly, but she made a face. “We don't need to announce our presence.”

“Well, that's no fun,” she said, pulling a grumpy-looking face.

“Maybe we'll get lucky and have a whole garrison after us? Wouldn't that be fun?”

“Ha ha,” she said dryly. “Be careful.”

“You too. See you in twenty.”

“I'd better. It's cold out here and I hate waiting.”

Sokka tipped an invisible hat at her and jogged toward the entrance to the mine. There was a metal fence across the entrance, but he pushed it aside easily enough. When he turned around, he just saw Azula hiding behind some large carts filled with chunks of coal that hadn't been shipped off yet.

Taking in a deep breath, he lifted the lantern and entered the mine, following the metal cart tracks across a hard-packed, gently sloping floor. The lantern light cast flickering shadows across the ceiling, illuminating the rough rock walls that were supported every few feet by heavy wooden beams with unlit lanterns hanging from them. In this part of the mine, the coal had been picked clean decades ago, but the farther he walked the more he saw the seams of dark coal ribboning the walls, until the entire tunnel was made of the stuff.

Coal dust was everywhere, settling on his boots and skin as he kicked up little puffs with each step. The damp air felt eerie, and the farther down he went, the stuffier it felt, and the narrower the walls became until he felt the compression on all sides.

He knew he was close to the twenty minute time limit Azula had given him, but he kept going. How far did this mine go? How deep was it? It had been here for a long time, so he didn't doubt that the Fire Nation miners had dug deep into the earth to get the black rock that fueled their ships and heated their cities.

Finally, he came to a hub of sorts, with more wooden beams supporting the ceiling. Four different tunnels branched off from the hub, leading deeper into the earth. His lantern seemed a feeble thing against the oppressive darkness.

“' _Secret tunnel...secret, secret tunnel.._.'” he sang tonelessly under his breath and then stopped himself, making a face. That was going to be stuck in his head for days.

He lifted his hand, letting the lantern's glow flicker against the beams, calculating how many explosives he would need to bring the ceiling down. It wouldn't take much, he knew...and any fire would ignite the seam of coal, turning the entire tunnel system into an explosive. A fire burning in a seam of coal, even deep under the earth, would burn for years, maybe even decades.

Perhaps that was what the Smoke Demons wanted. Just collapsing the mine wouldn't do as much damage as a fire would. The entire area would become unstable if a fire burned beneath the earth. It could spread to encompass all of Black Rock, making the place uninhabitable wherever the seam ran beneath the surface.

Whole villages would have to be abandoned. The entire mine system would eventually be compromised as it spread to other mines. The Fire Nation would be crippled without the coal to power their ships. The navy would be dead in the water.

He had told Azula as much when she'd asked him why he thought the Smoke Demons had given them this mission. The look of horror on her face had told him everything.

She wasn't happy about this, and neither was he. He had known that pretending to be a loyal Smoke Demon would mean doing things that he didn't want to, maybe even things more terrible than the possible ecological destruction of an entire island. If they didn't do this, if they didn't obey then they were useless to the cause, and that made them expendable. That put Azula in danger. That put Zuko and Suki and who knew how many people in danger.

A bitter taste flooded his mouth as he smoothed his hand up one of the splintery beams holding up the hub. He glanced at the lantern and then opened the little hinged door, exposing the flame to the air.

Moving from one tunnel to the next, he watched the flame carefully. At the second tunnel on the right, the flame guttered, sputtering in the faintest of breezes. He peered down the tunnel, but the light didn't penetrate its depths. He suspected that there was a way out down there, or at least some place open to the air.

Not that it mattered. The whole thing was going to come down just as soon as they stole of some explosives from the mining operations warehouse. He just needed to figure out how they were going to steal that many explosives without being seen...

Ruminating on a dynamite heist, Sokka turned back up the tunnel and started climbing the gentle slope to the entrance, eager to tell Azula what he'd seen. Lost in his thoughts, it took him far too long to realize that the fiery red glow ahead of him was not from his own lantern.

Then he heard Azula scream.

* * *

 

Sokka was late.

“Damn him,” Azula mumbled, wondering what was taking him so long. Perhaps the tunnel had been too long. Maybe he'd fallen into a pit. Maybe he was injured. Maybe he was lost. Maybe he was dead.

She stopped her racing thoughts and took a steadying breath, trying to imagine that Sokka was there with her.

_Breathe. Just breathe..._

She imagined his blue eyes, steady, no-nonsense, real, so very real. She could almost feel his grip on her hands, holding her tightly, tethering her to reality in a way that nothing else ever had, not even the pain of cutting her flesh open.

She took a few measured breaths, letting oxygen flow through her, clearing her head as the night birds sang mournful songs in the skeletal trees around her, the air crisp and cool on her skin. Sokka was real. The night air was real. The birds. The smell of the coal.

Steadied, she opened her eyes and immediately started, taking in a sharp inhale of breath as her heart jumped into her throat.

She was not alone.

A man was standing before the entrance to the mine, his head cocked to the side and his hands swinging at his hips. He bounced in place in excitement as Azula blinked and tried to figure out if what she was seeing was real or not.

She hadn't heard him approach. She hadn't seen anything. So where had he come from? Who was he? Was he real, or just another hallucination meant to torture her?

These thoughts ran through her head as she crouched behind one of the coal carts, her palms suddenly sweaty. She dug her nails into her flesh, hoping the hot shock of pain would break her out of whatever vision she was having.

She couldn't do this. Not right now. Not when Sokka needed her.

“Don't be real, don't be real, don't be real...” she chanted in a whisper, blinking rapidly as sweat dripped down her back. But when she stopped, the man was still there, standing in front of the mine. Blocking her only way to warn Sokka that they were not alone.

She stared at him, watching as he stretched his arms wide. He was wearing a dark cloak that could have been black, or possibly dark red, though it was hard to tell in the darkness. She could see short, spiky hair on his head. He was leanly muscled and of average height, but she couldn't see his face beneath the hood of his cloak.

Whoever this man was, he was real. He looked too solid and he hadn't turned toward her hiding space yet. Her hallucination always found her, always hissed terrible things at her. Tortured her.

This man had no idea that she was there. A creeping feeling crawled up her skin and settled in the small of her back. Who was he? What was he doing there this late at night, when the mine was shut down? He wasn't dressed like a soldier, or a miner.

Maybe he worked for the mining operation. Maybe he was the night watchman. Maybe--

Her thoughts stopped dead as the man pulled two large handfuls of bright orange flames from the air with a twist of his wrists. The fire illuminated the entrance to the mine, making it look even more like a yawning, hungry mouth ready to sink its teeth into her.

She caught a breath as a laugh pierced the air, bright and happy. Her eyes narrowed on the intruder, her heart pounding as she realized the laugh was coming from him. It grew as he stood there, the flames dancing madly in his hands.

She tensed, ready to spring out—whoever he was he was clearly NOT a watchman—but he turned just as she moved to stand. She could see a sharp grin on his face as his eyes went right to her hiding place.

“I SEE YOU!” he crowed and swept a blast of fire at the coal carts before she could move. The carts, laden down with heaping mounds of the black rock, ignited with a fiery whoosh, the explosion knocking her backward with a cry.

She hit the ground hard, pain radiating through her elbows, her head banging painfully against the gravel. She tasted blood in her mouth. A shrill laugh erupted in the air around her, and she reacted with the instincts of the girl she had once been. Deadly. Dangerous. Cold.

She scrambled to her feet, her own brilliant blue flames igniting inches from her outstretched hands. Her mind, for once, was remarkably clear. A grimace hit her mouth, blood dripping down her lip as thick, acrid smoke engulfed her, stinging her eyes.

“Come out, come out, I want to play,” the stranger called from somewhere in the thick smoke from the burning carts of coal. “I know you're there...”

Her jaw tightened as she circled around one of the burning carts, kicking aside glowing lumps of the black rock, the heat from the fires scorching her. She needed to get around to the entrance. She needed to get to Sokka.

“Having a little fun tonight, are we?” she called, her voice dripping with sarcasm. She choked on smoke the next second and tried not to cough.

“Yes, but I wasn't expecting an audience,” he replied in a jubilant voice that sent more warnings down her spine. He sounded pleased that she had seen him doing...whatever it was he had been about to do before he'd attacked her. “This mine is mine, all mine, all mine...”

His sing-song voice made her teeth gnash as she ducked behind the blazing carts, trying to get below the sooty smoke as it billowed around her. If only she could get the wind at her back. She killed the fire on her hands; they would just give her position away.

“Who are you?”

“Who are you?” he tossed back at her. “A dead girl, a dead girl, that's who you are! Come out and we can play. I want to play, I want to play, I want to _play_...”

His voice was plaintive, pleading, childish, and...lustful. Her tickling throat closed around a sudden surge of bile as she spotted a pair of feet from between the gap in the linked coal carts.

“I'm not here to play,” she snarled and pulled all of her energy together, feeling heat and power surging along her nerves. The hair on the back of her neck rose as the lightning clawed its way through her skin and came out of her fingers with a hot, growling blast.

She aimed straight for his feet, but he jumped away at the last second, rolling into a crouch on the ground. She let the bolt of lightning die as she jumped to her feet and turned on the burning coal.

She reached for the flames, gathering them beneath her power, bending them to her will. The flames rose with a blasting whoosh of heat that scorched her skin, scorched the earth, the metal carts glowing white hot.

Then she aimed for the stranger, the mad stranger, and blasted the fire in his direction as smoke stung her eyes and seared her lungs until she choked on it, coughing. She didn't stop, whipping the flames around, searching...

An unexpected blast took her in the back and she was knocked off of her feet and into one of the coal bins that hadn't caught on fire yet. She hit so hard she was sure a rib was broken, the breath knocked out of her aching lungs as she and the cart went tumbling.

She landed in the coal, half-buried in the rocks as they rattled and rolled, covering her legs. She couldn't breathe. Choking, her ribs on fire, she stared down at her legs trapped in the black rocks—and fear took hold of her as memory became reality.

_Trapped in the earth._

_Trapped._

_She couldn't move._

_Blood in her mouth._

_Blood in her eyes._

_Dirt in her mouth, filling her eyes, her ears, cutting off the air as she struggled._

_Her legs forced apart._

_Laughter._

_The rip of clothing._

_Pain._

_So much pain..._

“NO!” Azula screamed, panic slamming into her as the stranger laughed and blasted fire onto the coals covering her. They ignited with another hot whoosh. She felt the flames seeking her flesh, but she twisted out of the coals, out of the earth, her nails digging into the hard gravel, splitting, knuckles bloody in her desperation to get away, to not remember.

“I don't know who you are or why you're here, but you're getting in the way of my fun,” the stranger pouted as Azula freed herself from the burning coals. Her pant-leg was on fire and she rolled in the dirt, smothering the flames. Whipping around, she saw the mad Firebender jump down onto the burning hot coals. His hands stretched out, and the flames rose to lick at his waving fingertips, like a beloved pet eager for love and attention.

His face was under lit by the flames. His eyes were wide, his lips smeared with amusement and sweat. He looked down at her with an avid greed.

She knew that look. She had seen it before.

“Aren't you pretty?” he mused and she saw his tongue flash against his lips. “But you won't be when I'm done with you. Burn, burn, burn, burn, burn...I'm gonna make you burn...”

His smile was devilish, sharp and bloodthirsty as he gathered flames in his hands. She scrambled backward across the gravel, feeling pain in her ribs, in her burned leg, fear riding high in her pounding heart.

She had to fight back. She had to get up. She couldn't be afraid, she couldn't panic...if she panicked she was dead...

He threw the flames at her and she reacted on instinct, catching them and volleying them back at him. He dodged the flames as she scrambled up to her feet, panting with pain as her ribs protested. She ran, sending another volley back in his direction. He kicked it aside as she skidded to a stop against the fence across the entrance to the mine, the one Sokka had scaled.

She whipped around to face him, knowing in her heart of hearts what he had come there to do. Whoever he was, she knew that he had come to set fire to the mine. Just as she and Sokka were planning to do in the name of the Smoke Demons. Was this man a Smoke Demon?

“I don't like it when they run,” the mad Firebender pouted as he kicked a burning hot ember of coal at her.

“Who are you?”

“' _Firebug, firebug, fly away_ _unseen_ _, the house is on fire and the children a_ _ll scream_ _,_ '” he crooned with a snap of his teeth. Then he shot a fireball at her.

She ducked, twisting and spinning as she shot her own fireball at him with her feet. She felt his blast slam past her and then realized too late--

He deflected her fireball, but his soared into the entrance to the mine, setting the whole thing ablaze in an instant. More mine carts full of coal went up. An explosion rocked the earth and she heard something creaking, like a groan that went down deep into the roots of the earth.

The mad Firebender laughed, jumping up and down with glee and clapping his hands like an excited child watching fireworks for the first time. She watched smoke and fire billow from the mine's entrance, fear lacing her heart.

“AZULA!”

“SOKKA!” Azula burst out, digging her fingers into the coal-dusted ground and scrambling back to the entrance.

“AZULA!” Sokka coughed from somewhere close. “AZULA!”

She reached the blackened fence and forced it aside. “RUN, SOKKA!”

“Run? But we're having so much fun! Who's in there? More playthings?” the Firebender shouted with glee, and then Azula felt it. The hot threat of fire at her back.

She turned, lifting her arms in protection as it blasted her backward into the burning mine entrance. She landed face-down, skinning her chin as the Firebender's shrill laughter echoed down the mineshaft.

“Azula!” Sokka stumbled out of the dark smoke, his lantern held aloft, his arm over his mouth and nose, his eyes streaming. He coughed as he spotted her. “What's--”

She didn't have time to warn him.

The Firebender sent another blast at them, but Sokka rolled out of the way at the last second, dropping the lantern at his feet and pulling a knife from his boot at the same moment. He twisted and tossed the knife; it caught the Firebender in the thigh.

He shouted with pain, clamping his hand around the knife with a snarl of rage. When he pulled it out, blood gushed down his dark pant leg. He dropped the knife at his feet and looked up at them.

“Burn, burn, burn, I wanna watch you burn...but I'll settle for burying you alive,” he said in a deceptively calm voice.

Azula's heart leaped as she struggled to get up, her ribs protesting the movement. Sokka grabbed her arm, half-yanking her up to her feet as he pulled another knife out of his other boot. At the same time, she gathered the lightning in her center, preparing to blast him off of his feet.

Everything that happened next went by in such a confused jumble that only later did she put it together properly. It seemed to take no time at all, seconds really, all of it terrifying.

Sokka threw his knife just as she unleashed her lightning bolt. At the same time, the Firebender unleashed a storm of fire that hit one of the beams above their heads, splitting the wood. The beam broke and crashed down in front of them.

The ceiling followed. Huge boulders crashed down, blocking the entrance, and cutting them off from the Firebender. Sokka screamed something at her—“RUN”–and scooped up the lantern as the ceiling cracked down the middle.

The earth rumbled around them. Great boulders started falling, chasing them into the burning, screaming chasm of the mine, over burning coals, and past carts spilling their contents, which they tripped and slid over, the smoke charring their lungs, blinding them...

Great beams fell from the ceiling, crashing all around them. Rocks hurled themselves across their path. One slammed into Azula's shoulder and she stumbled, but Sokka grabbed her around the middle, pulling her deeper into the mine as the tunnel collapsed around them.

They came to a hub and Sokka hesitated, looking around with a frantic, wide-eyed twist of his neck. He was panting, choking, his nostrils and mouth black with soot.

“THERE!” he got out, pointing at one of the tunnels. But what he meant, she didn't know.

The ceiling gave above them. A rock crashed down on Sokka's head, blood spraying her, and then he was falling. She grabbed him under the arms, yanking his limp body backward, struggling as her ribs and her shoulder protested. Her knees turned to water beneath his weight as she tugged him toward the nearest tunnel. More rocks and then the great tumble of the earth rushed in to block their escape, to block all light, all hope, all air.

Azula gave one last desperate heave, and then she and Sokka fell together into the entrance of the tunnel as the ceiling gave around them.

Then, all was darkness.


	17. Sixteen

Azula woke up in darkness, her mouth dry, her head throbbing with pain. She breathed in and then collapsed into a coughing fit as her sooty lungs protested. Her left side exploded with pain as she hacked up a mouthful of soot dust and spat onto the rocks beneath her.

Breathing as deeply as she dared, she clutched at her ribs and took an assessment of her body. She couldn't see anything, not in this oppressive, grave deep darkness, but she could feel.

Her head hurt. Feeling her scalp, she discovered a shallow cut in her hairline that was bleeding sluggishly. Her hair was matted with blood and gritty with dust and debris. Her right shoulder hurt and she was sure it had been dislocated when the boulder had hit it. Her ribs...definitely fractured, but she didn't taste blood in her mouth, so she didn't think it was too bad. At least, her lungs hadn't been punctured.

She had scraped her elbows and knees at some point, and the familiar pain of a burn made her shin ache. That was the worst pain of all, the burn where the hot coals had touched her skin. She had always hated burns.

Every Firebender got burned at some point in their training. It was inevitable, but when she'd been a child, a small burn on her wrist had hurt so badly that she had vowed never to never again allow her own gift to turn on her. She had never been burned again during training, but she had never forgotten the pain.

A flash of memory, of watching avidly as Zuko had taken a fireball straight to the face, of his melted skin as he screamed in agony and collapsed on their father's feet...

Why had she felt so happy to see him brought so low? Why had that made her feel so vindicated back then, when now she just felt sickened?

Forcing her jumbled thoughts away from that dark path, she shifted in place, trying to ignore the pain in her aching body as she braced herself to face the reality of the situation. She was trying not to panic, and she had a feeling it wasn't working.

“Sokka?” she said hoarsely, her voice barely a whisper. She felt more tears in her burning eyes as she felt around in the darkness, her hands encountering large rocks, mounds of dirt and coal and then finally, flesh.

She seized Sokka's arm, letting out a strangled cry of relief that faded when he didn't stir.

“Sokka? Please...don't be dead... Don't be dead, _please_...” she forced out, shifting, feeling along his arm as the memory of seeing him getting hit in the head—of the blood spraying—came back to her in lurid detail.

She followed his arm to his head and cradled it in her hands as she bent over him, her ribs aching, her breathing shallower than ever. She felt his face, sticky with blood. She put her trembling hand over his mouth, not daring to breathe herself as she waited...

She felt the tiniest puff of air against her hand and let out a sob, putting her head down on his chest. Yes, she could feel his heartbeat. Steady. _Thump, thump, thump._ She clung to that sound, relief flowing through her. He wasn't dead!

For now, anyway.

She needed a light, but she was terrified of conjuring any flames; coal dust was everywhere. What if she ignited the seam, or even a pocket of natural gas that the mine collapse could have released? What if they suffocated in the gas, slowly? What if they starved to death down here, unable to escape? What if--

She was losing it. She could feel it. Panic was setting in, just as it had during her fight with the mad Firebender. She was trapped. Trapped in the earth, just like she had been so long ago.

Another sob escaped her as she pressed her face into Sokka's chest, her trembling hands clutching at the front of his shirt, holding onto him for dear life as the memories flowed over her like an avalanche of dirt, drowning her in them, filling her mouth so that she couldn't even scream.

She jerked away from him when she felt his hand touch her hair and then slid off. She sat upright, wincing as a seizure of pain erupted on her left side.

“Sokka?” she sniffed, wondering if she had imagined his touch. If she was hallucinating in the darkness.

“That you, Princess? Why the tears?” Sokka said in a muzzy voice.

“We're trapped.”

“Figured that one out myself,” he said and tried to move, but she pushed him back down.

“You got hit in the head.”

“So that's why it hurts,” he said wearily. “Are you okay?”

“Broken ribs, I think. Dislocated shoulder too. A couple of cuts and bruises, but I'm okay. You?” she said as his hand found hers in the dark. He squeezed her fingers reassuringly, and the strength of his grip made the knot of fear uncoil in her just enough so that she could breathe.

“Just the head, I guess. Where are we? Which tunnel?” he asked.

“I don't know. I pulled you into the closest tunnel. The entrance collapsed and I guess I got knocked out. We didn't get far in.”

“I think...” he started slowly, and she heard him licking his lips. “I think one of the tunnels had a way out. There was air flow. I didn't check it out though. It was the second tunnel on the right. Which one are we in?”

She felt her hopes sinking. “Not that one. The first on the right, I think. Everything happened so fast, I didn't--”

He squeezed her fingers again. “It's okay. We're alive. That's all that matters.”

“We're trapped.”

“Maybe not. Who knows where the shafts lead? We may be right at another hub like that first one. These tunnels go for miles, and we're barely in. We just have to...”

“Keep going.”

“Yeah, keep going,” he said, and attempted to sit up again, but groaned. “Once the darkness stops moving. My head is spinning.”

“You probably have a concussion.”

“Yeah, that seems about right,” he mumbled and then let out a breath. “So who was that guy?”

“I don't know. He just showed up out of nowhere. There was no time to warn you. He seemed...”

“Wolf-bat shit crazy?” Sokka offered. “What was he doing?”

“I think he came to burn the mine, just like we did, but I can't figure out why. Unless he's a Smoke Demon, but why would they send him here at the same time as us? And why didn't he know who I was? I don't get it.”

“Maybe he's a disgruntled employee? He's got the Black Lung and he's pissed about it,” Sokka groused. “Who knows? Did you get a name?”

“No, just a lot of nonsense and nursery rhymes,” she replied as she touched her tender scalp again. “He's a powerful Firebender, that's for sure.”

“Well, I hate the guy,” Sokka declared and then coughed and groaned. “I'm gonna slit his throat the next time I see him.”

“If we get out of here alive.”

“We're going to be okay, Azula. I promise.”

“You can't promise that.”

“No, but I am anyway,” he said, and then sat up, groaning as he did so. She heard him scraping against the rocks, pushing them aside with a clatter. “Where's Toph when you fucking need her?”

She couldn't deny that an Earthbender would come in handy right about now, but thinking of Earthbenders brought it all back, the horror, the pain, the humiliation and above all, the entrapment. The dirt in her nose, in her mouth, in her eyes, screaming around blood and dirt and pain as the earth closed over her head, her hands, her legs forced apart and the laughter, muffled by the dirt cutting off her air...

A cold sweat broke out over her skin. She started to see shapes in the darkness. She was trapped. Trapped in the earth. She was going to suffocate here, die in pain, violated, ripped apart, bleeding, her head spinning...

“Azula? Hey...Azula...”

She felt Sokka's hands on hers as her shallow pants turned into panicked screams. All sense fled. The shapes in the darkness became grasping hands. She felt them ripping at her hair, pulling her toward the rocks, tugging her toward the earth that wanted to swallow her whole...

She screamed, and fire bloomed in her hands.

* * *

 

Sokka blinked, blinded as fire blazed up between him and Azula. She was screaming, backing away from him into a corner of the tunnel. Her eyes were wide with fear, her face streaked with soot, tears, and blood. She was covered in black soot, her right arm, the shoulder dislocated, held loosely at her side as she trembled, fending off the darkness with her handful of flames.

She was having a panic attack, and it wasn't hard to see why.

The tunnel entrance was completely blocked by a cascade of boulders, coal and dirt. A crack in the ceiling told him that the whole thing could give at any moment, should they shift anything. There would be no digging out, not unless they wanted to bury themselves.

Stretching behind them, farther than he could see in the light of Azula's flickering flame, the tunnel sloped into darkness. Who knew what lay at the end of it? Probably nothing but dead ends and frustration.

He wasn't worried about that at the moment, though. He tried to catch Azula's eye as he lurched up from a sitting position, his head spinning sickly as he did so. He held out a blood-and-soot covered hand to her.

“Calm down, Azula...please... It's okay.” But she was looking past his shoulder, at something he couldn't see. Just like the last time, in the marketplace. “Look at me, Princess. Focus on me. Breathe. I want you to breathe for me. You're okay. I'm here. Nothing is going to hurt you.”

But something already had, and it was hard to deny that. Still, he persisted.

“It's not real, Azula. I'm real, okay? I'm real... Look at me, I'm real. I'm right here, and I'm just as scared as you are.”

That broke through her terror, he could see it in her face. “You are?”

“I'm shit-my-pants-terrified right now, and I think I'm gonna puke from how much head hurts,” he admitted grimly. “The only way we're going to get out of this is together, okay? I need you. You're my light in the dark, Princess. I can't do this without you, and I need you to be lucid. I know you're scared, but please... _Please..._ Just breathe for me. We're not trapped, okay? We are going to find a way out. We _are_.”

“What if we don't?”

“We _will,_ ” he said forcefully. “Please, I need you to calm down. There's a lot of coal in here, and if you lose control of your Firebending, things are going to get a lot worse for us. Do you understand?”

She stared at his outstretched hand for nearly a minute, trying to control her labored breathing. Then, slowly, she relaxed, the flame in her hand dying to a tiny flicker, but it didn't go out. She took in a breath that rattled and then seemed to steel herself.

“I'm sorry.”

“Nothing to apologize for,” he said, scooting over the fallen debris until he was sitting next to her, his back against the tunnel wall. His head was spinning badly now, but at least in the light of her flame he could see which way was up and down. He had felt completely untethered in the darkness, everything swirling and endless. He couldn't imagine how Azula had felt. He had already guessed that she was terrified of being underground, and probably even more so to be trapped there.

“If you weren't with me, I don't know what I'd do,” she whispered and put her head on his shoulder. He glanced at her and then shifted her head to put his arm around her. She stiffened, but allowed it, relaxing into him with a trembling breath. “How do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Make me trust you, when every one of my instincts is telling me to run.”

He shook his head, and then wished that he hadn't when everything tilted a little. “You trust me because you _want_ to, Princess. It's not my doing.”

“Yes, it is. I think it's because I know you'd never hurt me,” she whispered hoarsely and then swallowed with a dry-sounding gulp. Her tongue flitted along her lower lip, wetting the split skin. “We didn't bring any water. We'll dehydrate within a day, and in three or four days we'll be totally useless. If the air in here is filled with gas, we'll suffocate like a canary-cat.”

“If the air was filled with gas, your Firebending would already have ignited it. There's enough air in here that I'm not worried about suffocating. You're right, though. Dehydration will get us first. No use pretending it won't.”

“Then we should try and get out of here as soon as possible, while we're still able to.”

He nodded and tucked his face against her hair. The idea of moving was beyond him at the moment, but he knew he didn't have a choice. “Agreed. Can you walk?”

“I don't know. Can you?”

“Maybe, I don't know either. I definitely think I got concussed. It's a wonder that blow to the head didn't kill me instantly,” he mused, but she looked up at him, horrified and he winced. “Sorry.”

“Don't even joke about that.”

He smiled gently at her. “And here I thought you hated me, Princess. On that boat ride, I thought for sure you were hoping I'd fall overboard.”

“I was,” she said delicately. “But you've grown on me. Like mold. A very persistent slime mold.”

“You've grown on me too,” he admitted, looking down at her as she burrowed her head against his shoulder. The arm he had slung around her tightened a little.

“Like a slime mold?”

“Something like that,” he said, and then the words slipped out of him before he could recall them. “What are those scars from? The ones on your arms and thighs and—everywhere?”

Azula stiffened in his arms and then pushed away from him, her eyes wide. The flame in her hand sputtered and went out, thrusting them into pitch dark again. She breathed out a little, and he wondered if he might have just sent her spinning back into another panic attack, but then she reignited the flame, and light exploded in his eyes.

He found her face again, met her eyes and saw pain and shame in her gaze.

“I know it's probably none of my business, but I'm concerned,” he said by way of explanation. He didn't want to violate her privacy, and perhaps now was not the time, but the question had lingered on his tongue for too long. What did he have to lose?

She looked away, brow furrowed in anger. “You're right. It's none of your business.”

“Are you hurting yourself, Azula?”

She looked up sharply and drew in a breath that made her clutch at her injured ribs. “Drop it, Sokka.”

He stared at her face, and then looked around the tunnel. “Okay. Okay, I'll drop it for now. But if we get out of here alive, we're going to have this conversation again. If you're hurting yourself, it is my business.”

“Why do you think that?”

“Because no one is allowed to hurt you and get away with it. Not even you,” he said shortly.

“You think you're my bodyguard or something?”

“Someone has to protect you...might as well be me.”

“Why you?”

“Because I care about you, Azula,” he said gently, reaching out and touching her face. “You drive me absolutely up the wall, and yet...”

She jerked away from his hand. “You feel sorry for me, that's all. I don't want pity.”

“Maybe at first I felt that, but... I don't know now. I admire you. You've been through a lot, some terrible things, and you're still fighting. Even when things get out of your control, you still fight. It's your strength, Azula. I admire it so much.”

She looked a little stricken, certainly confused, at his admission. He hadn't realized it was the truth until he'd said it out loud. He didn't regret his words. He meant them. He did admire her strength. And not just that. He _liked_ her.

Beneath the cold snark, beneath the snide comments, and the stand-offish nature that she hid behind, was a person he wanted to get to know. She wasn't so different from Toph in that regard. There was a warmth to her that he had never guessed at, a vulnerability that had nothing to do with her illness, with her trauma, that she had only showed him a few times, like now. There was that spark in her, that strength that spoke to him. He wanted to get to figure her out. She fascinated him.

Something about her had dug into him, claws first...and he couldn't explain it at all. He wasn't even sure if he should try. He didn't know what it even was, or if it even mattered. Looking at her in the flickering light of the flame dancing in her palm, he felt something else, too.

An ache. Behind his chest, burrowed deep in the corners of his soul. He had felt it before, staring at her across the campfire, but didn't know what to make of it. But it was real. It was there, throbbing away at him, and growing stronger every day.

He cared about her. Perhaps too much.

“I'm not good at this touchy-feely crap, so if you're waiting for me to sob about it you're looking at the wrong girl.”

“I'm pretty sure I'm looking at _exactly_ the right girl,” he said softly and then stopped, his heart skidding. What the hell had he meant by _that?_ He touched his bloody, swimming head, confusion ripping through him. What _had_ he meant to say? Surely not _that..._

Azula took a tremulous breath and chewed on her split nails for a moment.

“I don't hate you,” she whispered and then made a face. “Damn, I told you I'm not good at this.”

He laughed a little. “'I don't hate you', huh? Eh, I'll take it.”

She laughed too, and put her hand in front of her mouth in that way that he liked. He wondered why she liked to hide her smile, why she had to put a barrier between herself and happiness, as if she was afraid to experience it, afraid to grasp the joy that rightfully belonged to her.

She tucked her head against his shoulder again and together they sat there for awhile, breathing synchronizing. An hour passed as they both tried and failed to regain their strength. He knew there was no way to get better, not until they got out of the mine.

Eventually he roused her. He was able to stand, but just barely. Azula had to help him walk, and together they limped down the tunnel until they both needed to rest and catch their breath. They had more light to see by, as she lit the lanterns hanging from the beams above their heads, the light stretching on and on.

However, as they walked, it became clear that Azula's dislocated shoulder needed popped back into place if she wanted to use her arm properly. He had her brace herself against his shoulder while he took hold of her other shoulder and her arm.

He popped her shoulder back into place with a hard wrench that nearly made him fall over, while, and she actually did collapse on him, her knees like water. He grabbed her, and held her up as she breathed through the pain, her face against his neck.

His hands ran through her tangled hair.

“You okay?”

“You're the one with the concussion.”

“I got a hard head. Takes more than a boulder to the skull to stop me,” he lied as she drew back and tested her shoulder, rolling it, lifting her arm over her head. She winced, but at least it was working again. She put her shoulder beneath his arm and together they lurched down the tunnel.

It felt like they were walking for miles, minutes dribbling into hours as the tunnel seemed to go on forever. Eventually they came to another hub, with tunnels branching off in three directions. They also found a shelf full of miscellaneous miner's tools tucked in a corner of the hub. The shelf was loaded with pickaxes, lanterns, some buckets, an empty cage, gloves, and a barrel of drinking water.

They both took turns drinking the water until their thirst was quenched. At least dehydration wouldn't be a problem at the moment. Now they just had to worry about starvation. And despite what he'd said, he was still concerned about the gas. And more collapses. The weight of the other tunnels could still bring down the one they were in, and he had a feeling they both knew it, though neither one of them said it.

The tunnel had to lead somewhere. They rested in the hub for a while, too exhausted to move. Azula curled up against him, asleep all of a sudden, as if she'd just slipped into unconsciousness from one moment to the next. She breathed shallowly but steadily, and he sighed, running his fingers through her hair. He wanted to sleep too, but he was afraid that he might not wake up again if he did.

His skull was throbbing with each beat of his heart as he watched Azula doze for what he guessed was a few hours. Eventually he roused her again.

“Why did you let me sleep?” she hissed at him, but softened when she saw how exhausted he was. “You should rest too.”

“I don't think that's a good idea,” he said cagily, afraid to worry her, but her eyes narrowed on him sharply and he knew that he wasn't going to fool her.

They drank more water and then loaded up with supplies from the shelves. They each took a pickaxe, a lantern and used one of the buckets as a toilet while the other pretended not to hear anything.

Setting off again, they took the first tunnel to the right, but it twisted into a dead end soon enough. They backtracked and took the second tunnel to the right. They followed it for three hours, down and down and down, until it dead-ended at a chasm in the earth. There were caution signs everywhere, and a metal cage across the opening of the chasm to stop miners from falling in accidentally.

They both decided that that was not the way out either and turned around after a brief rest. The journey back to the hub seemed to take even longer this time, both of their strength failing now. Sokka was so tired and dizzy that every step was a slog. He didn't know how much farther he could go without sleeping.

Azula glanced at him as they reached the hub and he sank down onto the floor of the shaft with a groan, his eyes squeezing tight as the lights played funny tricks on his vision. Was this how Azula felt? Did she see the walls melting like this?

Azula crouched down before him, holding her ribs again. “You need to rest.”

“Can't.”

“Yes, you can. I can search the other tunnel myself. You wait here. If I find anything, I'll be back to get you.”

“You tryin' to ditch me, Princess?”

“Remember the slime?” she scoffed, but he caught her expression, and she looked pinched with exhaustion and worry.

He tried to argue, but he was too exhausted too. His eyelids were drooping, consciousness slipping away from him in tiny, dark spots that grew in his vision. She pillowed some of the gloves up beneath his head and made him lie down. He caught her hand as she started to get up.

“Be careful, my Princess.”

Something flickered in her eyes at that, but he didn't know why. He was falling. Falling into a dreamless, exhausted sleep. He heard her say his name, and then everything in his world was extinguished...gone into a dreamless, endless void...


	18. Seventeen

Azula limped down the tunnel, one hand on the rough wall for support. Every breath sent little bursts of light dancing in her vision. About every hundred feet or so she had to light the lanterns hanging from the beams ahead of her.

Each bloom of light revealed more of the tunnel, the endless, dark, terrifying tunnel. She wanted to panic again. She wanted to scream and beat her fists against the walls, dig her way to freedom through the sheer force of her terror alone.

Instead she focused on putting one foot in front of the other. The tunnel had to end eventually. It had to. She refused to believe that it wouldn't. She had to find the way out, and get Sokka to a healer. His eyes had been so unfocused, his pupils blown wide in the light. He needed more help than she could give him, trapped down here like a rat-monkey.

Eventually she stumbled realized that the tunnel was taking a turn to the left up ahead, and swallowed hard, hopes rising in her. She stumbled to the bend and lit the lanterns ahead of her, but the tunnel just kept going, going and going and going...

She doggedly followed it, wishing she'd taken some water with her. Her mouth was dry, her tongue like sandpaper. Her ribs were aching so much that she could only breathe shallowly. Her shoulder was stiff, and she had trouble lifting her arm. The burn on her leg made walking agony. She could see blisters and red skin through the charred remains of her left pant leg.

Every inch of her hurt. It would be so easy just to lie down and wait.

Wait for it to end.

She eventually stopped, resting her back against the tunnel wall. She put her lantern down at her feet and was surprised when it fell over—and rolled back in the direction that she'd come. She lunged after it, regretting the movement instantly when her ribs exploded with a bright, sharp pain that made her gasp. She hit her skinned knees, bursting a blister on her burned shin.

She grit her teeth against the pain, grabbing at the lantern before it could roll away back down the tunnel.

_Down the tunnel!_

Her eyes flew open as she looked back in the direction she'd come, only realizing now that she had been climbing an incline for the past half-hour. The tunnel was rising, not going deeper into the earth. She whipped her head around, staring into the tunnel ahead of her. She conjured a handful of flames and lifted it, waiting with baited breath...

The flame steadied as she held her breath. And held it, afraid to move, to breath, to blink.

The flame suddenly flickered, guttering, pushed back by a breeze she had been too miserable to feel. There was air ahead. A way out. She could feel it in her bones.

Azula lurched to her feet, grasped the lantern and set off back down the tunnel. Back to Sokka.

It took her far too long to reach him, hours at least. When she came into the hub, stumbling, dehydrated, her legs shaking, she found that he hadn't stirred at all since she'd left him.

She gulped water, and then brought the ladle over to him. She tipped water into his mouth and he swallowed it greedily. His eyes opened, and she realized that his gaze was unfixed, his pupils still wide. She touched his skin and then jerked her hand back when she felt how blisteringly hot he was.

“You're burning up.”

“I don't...feel so great, my Princess...” he said, his words mostly a garbled mess. “Probably need a healer...”

“I know. I know, I'll get you to one if it kills me,” she said, helping him sit up a little so that he could drink some more. Then she poured a little water over his head, but it didn't seem to help. He groaned and squeezed his eyes shut.

“Did you find a way out?” he whispered, catching her hand and squeezing it.

“The tunnel slopes upward, and I think there was a breeze. I didn't go all the way. I had to come back for you,” she said, pulling his hand to her chest. He opened his eyes and smiled a little.

“How far?”

“I don't know. Far.”

“I don't think I'm getting out of here, my Princess,” he said softly, and she felt a lurch in her chest, like someone had ripped her heart out with a hand made of ice. “You should go. Get out. Need you to be safe.”

She pressed her forehead against his skinned knuckles and squeezed her eyes shut tightly. “I need you to be safe, too, you idiot.”

“I'll be okay... Promise.”

“Sokka... Sokka...” He was falling back asleep, or maybe unconscious, she didn't know which. Fear sliced through her like a knife, and she reached out, shaking him by the shoulders. “SOKKA! WAKE UP!

His eyes flew open. “Hey, that's my line...”

“Keep your damned eyes open or I'll burn you alive!”

“Be nice, I'm hurt,” he said weakly. “Everything is swimming.”

“That's the concussion. And maybe the fever. You're going to be fine. But I need you to get up. Come on, stand up.”

It took a long time, her pushing and pulling and prodding and cursing at him, but eventually she got him sitting up, then on his knees, and then standing. He wobbled in place, as she put her stiff shoulder beneath his arm and all but dragged him down the tunnel. It was slow going. He was drunk with exhaustion, half out of his mind with the concussion and the fever burning him up.

Eventually they made it to the bend in the tunnel, where she rested once again. The pain in her ribs was unbearable, with his weight crushing her, but she refused to give in to it. She knew that if she let him down, she may never get him back up again.

The tunnel sloped upward, gently, and then more and more, until she saw signs of the work the miners had been doing. There were tracks being laid for the coal carts, more equipment, and eventually another rest station.

She propped Sokka against the wall and got them another drink of water from a bucket that the miners had left there. As she made him drink, she started to wonder how long they had been down in the mine. It was probably close to a day by now. The tunnels had gone and on and on...and they had been so injured...

She could feel how weak she felt, from hunger and dehydration and her injuries. Still, she was determined to press on. Surely there was an end to this tunnel. Surely there was a way to get out of here. There had to be. She refused to die trapped in the earth, imprisoned forever, entombed...

She forced her memories away, but they were never far from her mind, and hadn't been ever since the collapse. She wouldn't give in to them. She couldn't. If she did, they were dead.

Sokka would be dead. She _couldn't_ let that happen.

The tunnel took another twist, and as they rounded the corner, she felt it. The air. Sweeping in with the smell of late autumn, somewhere distant but close enough to carry in the scent of the leaves. She could feel it stirring against her skin, the tiniest lick of air. Her heart seized and she shifted Sokka on her shoulder.

“We're close, Sokka. There's an exit ahead of us. Hang on, please, hang on...”

But Sokka's knees gave out and he tumbled to the ground at her feet. She fell to her knees beside him, shaking him, screaming his name, but he wouldn't wake.

* * *

 

Sokka awoke to a throbbing head and someone forcing broth down his throat none-too-gently. His head felt like it weighed a ton as he opened his eyes and winced away from the gentle light of a candle.

“Well, it's about time,” Azula clipped and he heard a spoon clatter into a bowl. When he opened his eyes again, squinting to fend off the offensive light, he discovered that he was lying on a bed in a large room. There were other beds lining the walls, full of men, women and children, most of them covered in bandages. One of the children was sniffling as someone—a healer, he realized—bandaged an angry looking burn on the child's hand.

“Where am I?” he croaked out, turning his attention on Azula. His head was a jumble of memory. The mine. The collapse. That crazy Firebender. His head injury. His hand lifted to his head, and encountered a thick padding of bandages.

“A hospital in Minersville. We're still on Black Rock,” Azula said, meeting his gaze and then looking away. “You've been out for nearly a week.”

“My head?”

“Badly concussed. You had a fever when I brought you in, but the healer said you should be okay now. You got hit rather hard, but they don't think there will be any lasting damage. Of course, I told them you were already as dumb as a box of rocks, so they shouldn't expect miracles when you woke up,” Azula said airily, although he saw the tight relief in her face.

“How did we get out of the mine?”

She ducked her face, avoiding looking at him again. “You collapsed in the tunnel. I couldn't pick you up so I had to go for help. The miners closed off the entire mine system once they discovered the collapse on the other end, so there was no one there when I came out, but I managed to make it to a farm not far away. The farmer came back with me and we loaded you up on a cart and brought you here. You were in bad shape. I wasn't sure if you'd make it or not for a moment there.”

“You can't get rid of me that easily,” he said, pulling a tired smile. “Are you okay?”

“Two broken ribs, a burn on my leg, some bumps and bruises. I've had worse,” she said, met his eye again, and then looked away. He took her hand and squeezed it, surprising her into jerking her head up again. He saw her bite down on her inside of her bottom lip, her eyes swimming a little.

“Did they ask a lot of questions?”

“No. I paid off the farmer. I told the healers we had a climbing accident. I don't think they believed me, but they haven't pressed the issue. I think they're afraid of me, actually.”

He felt a sinking in his guts. “Why would they be afraid of you?”

“When they tried to take you from me, I sort of... I had to be restrained. Temporarily. I was injured and out of my head. Obviously.”

“Right,” he said carefully, and then squeezed her fingers. “How many of them did you hurt?”

“Four. No, five. I broke that janitor's nose, I think.”

He chuckled a little, moving his swimming head, but she didn't join him. He peered at her, at the strange look in her eyes. “What else aren't you telling me?”

She pursed her lips, her jaw tight for a moment.

“Rian was here.”

His confused mind was too slow to put a face with the name. “Who?”

“Our first contact from the inn at the port in Alekasha.”

He felt a finger of unease slide slowly up his spine. “Oh. And what did that little weasel want? He didn't threaten you again, did he?”

“Hard to say. He just stared at you for a while, and then gave me another scroll with instructions on it. He seemed strangely amused at seeing you unconscious and injured.”

“Well, I'm glad my traumatic brain injury is giving someone the giggles,” Sokka groused. “What was on the scroll?”

“We'll discuss that later,” she said easily enough, looking on edge all of a sudden. He had a feeling he wouldn't like what was on that scroll.

“Did you tell him about the Firebender?”

She looked around the ward, and then bent over him.

“No,” she whispered, and met his gaze again. “He can't know that we weren't the ones who did it. The way he was looking at you... I didn't dare leave him alone with you.”

“Afraid he was going to put a pillow over my face?”

“Yes, actually.”

“ _Shit_ ,” he said with feeling, staring up at the ceiling. “So he thinks we did it, but we got injured, so that's probably a failure in his eyes...or the Smoke Demons' eyes? Whichever. Anyway, that means we're as good as dead, right?”

“That's been my thinking on the subject, but he did leave us the scroll so I'm not sure what the intention is,” she said, letting go of his hand. She pushed her long hair off of her shoulder.

“Well. That's lovely. And no word on that Firebender?”

Azula's glanced back at the child with the burn on his hand. “Three other mines have been set on fire this week. And several farms. That little boy over there was rescued from his family's farm. He said he heard someone laughing outside, and then the whole house went up in flames. His entire family perished.”

Sokka looked at the child again, this time noting the tear tracks on his face, the lost expression in his eyes. He knew that look all too well.

He licked his dry lips and thought a moment, which wasn't easy. His head was a mess. “If he was an agent Rian would have known and he would have called your bluff. There's no strategic reason to burn down a couple of farms in the middle of nowhere. No reason to kill an entire family. How would that help the Demons?”

“It wouldn't,” Azula replied, shifting in place and spreading her hand on her injured ribs. “He wasn't there because of the Smoke Demons. He was there for _fun._ He even said as much. He must have fire madness.”

“Fire madness?”

“Pyromania. Sometimes a Firebender feels joy from setting blazes and seeing the destruction that they cause. They get some kind of perverse satisfaction from it. A Firebender with fire madness is dangerous. They'll burn anyone and anything. Not for gain or to get power, not even for revenge. Just...because they want to watch everything burn. Because it's fun.”

“So it was a coincidence, us being at the mine at the same time?”

“I imagine the thought of the mines on fire would appeal greatly to someone with fire madness.”

“Fantastic.” he intoned dryly. “I think we're lucky he's not a Smoke Demon then. Imagine that guy with the Smoke Demons' resources? Half the Fire Nation would burn down in a day,” he said as Azula stared down at her lap. She was looking very somber. Even more so than usual. “Hey...how bad has it been?”

He didn't have to elaborate. She caught his meaning immediately, her face flushing a little. She opened her mouth to say something—probably a lie—but then stopped. The tension flowed out of her and she slumped her shoulders.

“Bad,” Azula said bitterly. When she looked up, she looked disconcerted. “I really thought I was going to lose you there for a minute.”

“Worried about me, huh?” he said, reaching out and taking her hand again. She didn't pull away this time.

“Only about your sister drowning me in revenge,” she said, arching her eyebrow at him, but then she softened a moment later. “But I'm glad you're not dead.”

“You saved my life, Azula. I'd still be in that mine if it weren't for you,” he said and smiled gently at her. “Thank you.”

She didn't say anything, just leaned forward and rested her head on his chest, which triggered a memory he wasn't even sure was real or not. Of slipping in and out of consciousness, of seeing her sleeping with her head on his chest, exhaustion etched across her face. He smiled and stroked her hair.

He was hurt, sure, but he was alive. They were both still alive.

_That's good enough for me._

* * *

 

It took him another week in the hospital to recover, but eventually he was given a clean bill of health, a whole lot of headache medicine and strict orders to rest, and not to go mountain climbing ever again.

His head was still a painful jumble, and he got dizzy easily, but as he and Azula caught a ride to one of the ferry docks on the south end of Black Rock, he knew that he was lucky to even be alive. The farmer they caught a ride with was the gossipy type, and told them all above the blazes that had been spreading across Black Rock. There was fear that the seam beneath the island had ignited for good. Several more farms, and half of one of the little villages in the rocky hills on the north of the island had gone up in flames.

The mad Firebender had been very busy indeed.

Sokka felt guilty as they strode up the dock and boarded the ferry. Staring back at Black Rock, he felt the urge to get off the boat and hunt the Firebender down, to stop him. It's what Sokka would have done, but not what Tazeo would have done. Was doing. Wasn't? Who was he? Sokka or Tazeo?

Clutching at his throbbing skull, he tried to untangle his identity. He was Sokka of the Water Tribe, not Tazeo, a murderer and a brute and a terrorist. He was just pretending to be Tazeo. Yes, pretending. That wasn't him.

Azula touched his arm as the ferry pulled away from the dock. “Your head?”

“Yeah. Dizzy.”

“Sit down before you fall into the water then,” she said, though she was gentle with him as she led him over one of the seats. They sat together, watching Black Rock, the place that might have been their tomb, disappear behind them. He wasn't sad to see it go. Someone would stop the mad Firebender, but it wouldn't him. They had a mission to get back to.

His thoughts lingered on Rian. About what he might be thinking, plotting...and whether or not he was watching them right now. How had the Smoke Demon found them at the hospital, after all? They hadn't missed their next contact meeting yet, which meant to the Smoke Demons were keeping tabs on their every move.

Not surprising. Hadn't they told them that they would? Still...it made Sokka uneasy, knowing that their every move was being watched. If he let his Tazeo cover slip, even for a moment, he had to assume that they would know.

That meant that he might never get a chance to write to Suki. He couldn't put the whole mission in jeopardy, including putting Suki and Zuko in danger, just to write Suki a cryptic note that would probably cause more problems than it solved.

Who knew how long they were going to be out here, though? How long it would be until he saw her next. This was going to damage their relationship, and he knew it.

 _But isn't it already damaged?_ a small part of him whispered, feeding the seeds of doubt and pain in his heart.

He decided not to think about Suki. It wouldn't do him any good, and every time he did he just became more and more bitter, more and more sure that when they met again, she would be so wrapped around Zuko there would be no pulling them apart. Better not to think about it. Better to focus on the here and now.

And Azula was here and now.

Their next safe house was an old mill house high in the volcanic mountains of Broken Teeth Island, where snow already capped the craggy peaks, and icy winds whipped them like a howling beast. The mill house sat over an iced-up pond, the water wheel broken and rotted away to nothing. The cold wind soughed through the place, sending frozen drafts of air across the dusty floorboards.

It was a miserable place. His head hurt. His heart hurt. Worry gnawed at his guts.

That night, Sokka huddled beneath his sleeping bag, thinking of the Southern Water Tribe with a sick feeling in his stomach. He was homesick and he knew it. He laid there, shivering, unable to sleep, for nearly an hour. He was just slipping off to sleep when Azula's quiet sob filled the air.

He tensed, knowing what was coming. He was started to anticipate her night terrors. Maybe he had known she would have a nightmare tonight, maybe that was why sleep hadn't come? It didn't matter.

He was up like a shot, shaking her, trying to rouse her before her screams became too desperate, too broken. When she opened her eyes and met his gaze, she looked relieved to see him, fear trembling her body.

“It's okay, Azula... It was just a dream,” he said as she shuddered and shivered, wrapping her arms around him. She held on tight, sobbing into his shoulder. It had been a bad one then. “It wasn't real.”

“I'm so sorry...”

“You didn't wake me,” he soothed her.

“Your head, you need to rest and I'm....”

“I'm fine, it's you I'm worried about. What happened? Maybe it'll help to talk about it?”

“I couldn't get free,” she said brokenly, shivering in his arms. “It's always the same. I'm trapped and I can't move. And then everything is on fire. And the baby... The baby keeps screaming. Sokka, why does it keep screaming?”

“Shhh...” he mumbled, gathering her against him. He soothed the shivers out of her, stroking her long sheet of soft black hair, his mouth against her forehead. He held her tightly, until the last of her terrors had fled.

His eyes slowly closed as he listened to her breathing even out again, sleep claiming her. He tried to extricate himself from her arms, but she moaned in her sleep and pulled him closer. Too exhausted, his head pounding, cold to his bones, he sank down into her sleeping bag with her. He told himself he'd just lie there for a while, just until she was asleep for good. Then he'd go back to his own sleeping bag.

He switched her bag over the both of them and felt the warmth of her body ward off the chill air, bathing him in soporific heat. She shifted against him, resting her head on his chest like it belonged there, and he had the memory of her sleeping with her head on his chest back in the hospital. He didn't think he had dreamed it.

He wrapped his arms around her, feeling warm down into his toes. He fell asleep almost immediately, his face tucked into her hair, the intoxicating scent of her filling him up like drink.


	19. Eighteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: Rape Mention

Warm breath, strong arms, the tickle of stubble against her forehead, the slow breathing timed to her own gentle inhales and exhales, the scent of something masculine, of spice and meat, sweat and fur, steel and ice. Azula became of aware of each little thing with each drip of consciousness that flooded her raw mind.

Her eyes fluttered open and she found herself staring at Sokka's hand, resting on his chest an inch from her face. His knuckles were scarred in little white ribbons that ran through his dark flesh. She wondered idly how he'd gotten them, still too full of sleep to fully comprehend the fact that she and Sokka were entwined like...

 _Like lovers,_ came the thought like an arrow through her brain. She hitched in a breath, stiffening in his arms. She became very aware of her own body, at the leg slung across his, the hand low on his stomach, fingers spread just beneath hem of his shirt. She could feel the hair on his belly prickling her fingertips and something about that set a fire beneath her skin that she couldn't contain.

Flushing, she lifted her head and glanced up at his sleeping face. There was a line of drool down one side of his slack mouth and there was a still bandage on his head from the crack he'd taken to the skull during the mine collapse, but otherwise he looked...

Peaceful.

How had this happened? How had he gotten here?

Then she remembered the nightmare that had woken her sometime in the night, of Sokka soothing her to sleep again, of falling asleep in his arms, unwilling to let him go.

Annoyance flashed through her, and also bewilderment. What had she done? She couldn't believe she had slept with him.

Well, not _slept with him_ slept with him. Not that she would do that. With him. Ever.

Her face went beet red as she chewed on her ragged nails, her mind a jumble of confusing thoughts and images and suddenly she couldn't stop thinking of what he'd said at the inn in Alekasha, the lewd image of them he had drawn for Rian's benefit and _why?_ Why did she have to think about that _now?_ What was wrong with her?

The heat crept up her neck as Sokka moaned in his throat and shifted beneath her, his hips lifting against her thigh. His other hand, she realized, was in her hair, wrapped around the strands possessively.

She should move. She should hit him. She should panic because this, she hoped, was not real. Just another hallucination. But she wasn't panicking, not really. Not like she should have been. The terror she usually felt when anyone put their hands on her was gone.

But that wasn't really a surprise, after all. He had slowly, so slowly, smashed through the walls around her, the ones she'd built to her keep her safe. A touch here, a look there, and that stupid, damned noble heart of his, all conspiring against her. He had said, over and over, that he wouldn't hurt her. She hadn't wanted to believe him, but a part of her had broken open at his promise, yearning for a connection, willing to believe anything if it meant that she wasn't so desperately, terribly lonely anymore.

It hurt, to admit to herself just how crushingly lonely she had been for so long. She had always thought that keeping everyone away from her would protect her, but Sokka had torn through those protections. It was only when he slid those gentle, callused fingers against her skin that she realized how touch starved she was. How much she needed it.

Needed him.

She realized that a part of her hated him for that. She couldn't lie to herself anymore, not when she could so clearly see her reflection in Sokka's gentle blue eyes.

 _Damn him_ , she thought as her body awoke in ways she hadn't felt in years, maybe never. She was embarrassed at her reaction. It just proved what a danger this man was to her. And yet she still couldn't bring herself to move, to wake him. She knew he'd be just as embarrassed waking up in her arms, and she didn't want to see the regret and disgust in his eyes.

Somehow, she knew that would make things even worse.

She slipped her hand off of his stomach, half-rolling away from him and taking the blanket draped over both of them with her, which exposed Sokka to the cold draft creeping through the cracks.

The sun was barely up, weak and gray. It would be a cold, bitter day, and she didn't doubt that snow was on its way. Winter was biting down on autumn. A miserable time to be in the mountains, and an even worse time to be traveling in the Fire Nation. It wouldn't get nearly as cold as in the Earth Kingdom or at the poles, but it would get bitter and gray and rainy, with the rain turning to ice and sometimes snow.

She had always disliked winter, and had begun to hate it while traveling in the Earth Kingdom, when she'd often had no shelter against the snow. She had sometimes even been too weak to use her chi to warm her body. Too weak to fight off--

But she stopped that thought, her stomach cramping as she felt the weight of Sokka's hand in her hair, dragging her head back. She slipped even further away, grabbing her hair and trying to untangle his fingers before he woke up.

“Mmmm...why's it so cold, honey? Come on back and warm me up,” Sokka mumbled, causing her to freeze, her eyes flicking to his face. His eyes were closed as he half-turned toward her, his fist tightening in her hair painfully. “Come on, come back to bed, Suki.”

She hitched in a breath and yanked her hair out of his fist, glaring at him. She struck out with her balled fist, hammering him in the stomach. Sokka let out a gust of air, crunching up into a ball as his eyes flew open.

“WHAT THE--?” he gasped, holding his stomach as he rolled to the side. Their gazes met. Him bewildered, ripped from sleep. Her...angry. “Azula? Why did you hit me?”

“I am _not_ your girlfriend!”

His eyes bulged. “Uh, I know that!”

“Do you?” she said, her face hot and red, her eyes flashing. “Because you just called me her name!”

“Oh! Uh... Wait, what's going on? I called you Suki? Why would I...?” Sokka looked at the blankets, looked at her, then down at himself. His head sank back onto the pillow. “We slept together.”

“No, we didn't!” she hissed immediately.

“Not like—you know what I meant!” he said, his voice growing shrill, one hand lifting to cover his eyes. “It's my fault. I didn't mean to fall asleep. You had a nightmare, and... Well, you were so warm, I just kinda drifted off. I'm sorry.”

“I remember,” she said, holding the blankets around her as Sokka lowered his hand and peered at her. “I didn't want you to leave. I felt...safer, with you there.”

Sokka sat up on his elbows and looked at her, brow furrowing.

“Any more nightmares?”

“I don't remember. I don't think so.”

“I guess if you had, it would have woken me up,” he said softly, reaching out a hand and touching her leg. She sidled back, however, feeling raw and ill-used, though she couldn't say why. “What's wrong? Oh, Spirits... Did it...did I...uh...poke you with anything?”

“Poke me with...? OH!” Her hands flew up and so did she. She tossed the blanket down onto his head. “You're disgusting!”

“I'm sorry! It's completely involuntary! Totally natural!” he said, laughing.

_LAUGHING!_

Her face flamed as she snatched up her pack. “If you did, it was too small for me to feel anything!”

And she marched down the rickety stairs, her head held high, heat beneath her skin and Sokka's fading laughter chasing her.

* * *

 

The rest of the morning was tense, but friendly—on Sokka's part. He seemed amused at the flush in her cheeks that wouldn't seem to go away, but there was something troubled in his eyes that she couldn't quite figure out. It wasn't until she saw him poring over the scroll Rian had given her in the hospital that she realized where his mind was really at.

Of course. The mission.

That was what was bothering him. Not waking up in her arms, which had probably been nothing but an embarrassment to him, something to cringe over the minute she'd stomped downstairs. He was probably thinking of his girlfriend— _the faithless,_ _undeserving_ _whore_ , Azula thought unkindly—and wishing he could have woken up in Suki's bed instead.

Not that she cared. Why _would_ she care? He was nothing to her. Friends though they were trying to be, it was nothing more than that on his part and she knew that. Why wouldn't she know that? It was very obvious. She found him attractive, it was true, but that was just because she had eyes. How could it be more than that?

But she still found herself reliving the moment she'd woken up in his arms, allowing herself the fantasy of what it might be like to feel... Feel what, though? Her brain fizzled out trying to come up with anything else beyond a deep, widening chasm of _want_ that was growing in her chest and buzzing in her extremities.

She couldn't account for it, this foreign feeling. Well, not foreign. She had felt this way a few times, but it had never amounted to much. It was enough though, that she could name the feeling for what it was, though she wanted to ignore it. Forget it. Push it away.

But she had felt it before, this feeling deep in her bones, growing from a seed into a vine that stretched itself, tendril by tendril into every pore and cell in her body. Watching him sleeping in the hospital on Black Rock, feeling lost and scared as she held his hand, falling asleep with her head on his chest just to hear his heart beating.

She should have known then, should have guessed.

As she watched him pouring over the scroll, she bit down on her lower lip and watched the firelight flickering along his dark lashes, the shadows nesting in the hollows of his face, the pull of muscles and tendons in his neck as he rolled it, working out some kink.

Her chest tightened, her blood buzzing.

 _Desire_.

She felt it down to her toes and back again in her traitor's heart where it festered like an open wound. Rather than give in to it, she resisted it tooth and nail, refusing to believe that she could be feeling anything for him that wasn't annoyance, or indifference.

It wasn't real, what she was feeling. It couldn't be. It was just another confusing warp of reality that would unbalance her, send her teetering into the void. The ability to even feel desire, to want someone like that had been taken from her a long time ago. She was hollow, unable to love, unable to feel, completely devoid of wants and needs as base as that.

They had done that to her, those men in the woods that day, ripped it from her with violence and laughter. The girl she had been before that day had been damaged, sick, struggling...but the girl that had walked away from that nightmare had been a shell. Empty, scared in a way she had never been before, not even when her mind had played tricks on her.

She was not a woman. She was a broken doll. And broken dolls did not feel.

“They want us to burn down the Fire Sage Temple on Wolf Fang Peak,” Sokka said, breaking her out of her thoughts. She stared at him, not comprehending the words for a moment.

“That Temple has been there for two thousand years,” Azula said, trying to remain calm. She was feeling trapped all of a sudden, caged in her own body, which had turned against her so unexpectedly.

Sokka grimaced. “Why the hell do we have to destroy it? Did Rian say why?”

“No. You know he wouldn't explain anyway.”

He blew out a breath and tossed the scroll down with disgust. “I feel like that fucking Fire Bug, burning something for no reason.”

“We have a reason,” she said softly, looking up from braiding her hair. “We're Smoke Demons and we hate the Fire Lord.”

“I'm honestly kind of starting to,” he said darkly and then sighed. “That reminds me...my tattoos are fading. We might want to touch them up before anyone notices.”

“Oh. Yeah. Okay,” she said, turning away so that he couldn't see the look on her face. “If you want me to, I'll do it now.”

Sokka grunted something in agreement, and walked over to his pack, where he had a bottle of dark dye and a brush, which Mai had given them before they'd left on the ship. Azula stoked the fire to brighten the room, and then turned to see Sokka taking his shirt off.

“Do you want me to lay down, or sit?” he asked, seemingly oblivious to the way she was staring at him with a new-found appreciation.

“Uhh...sit, I think,” she said as he plopped down before the fire, his back against one of the wooden pillars just barely supporting the upper floors. She took the dye and the brush from him and then hesitated. “I'm not as good as Mai.”

“Well, you can still see the ones she put on, so mostly you just have to fill them in again to make them darker,” Sokka said as she let her gaze trail down his stomach, over the crisp hair that had tickled her fingertips that morning so enticingly.

She dragged her eyes away and opened the bottle, remembering how Mai had made her watch while she'd done this the first time. She had been so annoyed, standing there in the corner, glaring at Sokka. Sure that she would always hate him. That this was a mistake.

And hadn't it been?

“Just don't move your manly boob-muscles,” she said as she dipped the brush. Sokka laughed a little, a pleased look on his face.

“They're called pecks, remember?” he corrected her, wrinkling his nose.

“Whatever they are, don't move them,” she said, and lowered the brush against his skin. She followed Mai's old marks, the faded black color turning dark, like a bruise blooming to life before her very eyes. Her hand wasn't steady though and she blurred the lines a little. She glanced up at him, and met his gaze. “Sorry.”

“Don't worry about it. Anyone who gets close enough to notice will get a fist in their face for the trouble,” he said easily and then grinned at her in an amused sort of way.

“What?” she said, self-consciously. “I don't have any of this on my nose or something, do I? It'll be there for weeks--”

“No, it's just... You keep poking your tongue out of the corner of your mouth while you work. It's cute,” Sokka said and he lifted his finger and poked the end of her nose. “So serious.”

She huffed out a breath and rolled her eyes. “Well, one of us has to take things seriously.”

“I take serious things seriously,” he sniffed as she went back to work, filling in one of the tats on his left arm.

“And what serious things do you take seriously, Sokka of the Water Tribe?” she mused.

“ _You,_ Princess Azula of the Fire Nation. I take you very seriously,” he said softly, making her look up at him again. “I'm sorry if I upset you this morning.”

“I wasn't upset.”

“You hit me.”

“Don't you know I'm crazy? I do all kinds of things for no reason,” she said, flashing him a sharp grin that he didn't return. He was looking thoughtful instead, as he looked down at the fresh ink on his skin.

“So where did you get it?”

“Get what?” she asked, lifting her eyebrow.

“Your Smoke Demons tattoo,” he said. “They all have one.”

“You didn't have to get one.”

“That's because Mai lied and said she gave me one and since Tazeo was already covered in black flame tattoos, none of our contacts have questioned it. But you... I asked Mai and she said you got one when you joined. Where is it?”

“Have you been wondering this since we left Republic City?” She didn't know why that made her skin tingle.

“Yeah. You don't seem the tattoo type.”

“I'm not. I had a panic attack when the man tried to put it on me,” she said softly. “It took two days, but Mai's handler insisted I prove that I was serious about joining, so June, that woman with the shirshu, did it instead. She put it some place I'll never have to look at it.”

“Oh, the possibilities...” Sokka said teasingly, but there was a sad light in his eyes and his amusement faded. “I'm sorry you had to do that. That must have been hard.”

“It's just skin.”

“It's your body, Azula. You should have a say in what happens to it.”

“I've never had much of a say in that, Sokka. What's a tattoo on my ass matter in the long run?” she said, bending over his arm. Sokka grabbed her hand to stop her.

“It matters to me.”

“I almost think you mean that.”

“I do.”

“It's just a tattoo, Sokka. I've almost forgotten I even have it,” she said with a shrug. “On the list of life's regrets, that one ranks pretty low for me.”

“Still.”

She went back to filling in his fake tattoos and they fell into silence while he watched her work. After a couple of minutes his head snapped up from the angle he'd been holding it at, his eyes widening.

“Wait! It's on your ASS?!”

Azula laughed—a real laugh—and put her hand over her mouth to hide her smile as Sokka goggled at her. “Maybe. Who knows?”

“You _didn't!_ ”

“I guess you'll just have to find out,” she said and then blanched when she realized what she'd said. Sokka was grinning at her though. He leaned down and poked the end of her nose again.

“That's pretty cheeky of you.”

She swiped his hand away, groaning. “You are the worst!”

“You love it!”

“I do not!” she said and stuck her tongue out at him.

“So rude! That's not princess-like behavior at all.”

“I'll show you princess-like behavior if you don't hold still and let me finish,” she snapped, trying not to laugh. “I'll kick your ass like I did in your office.”

“Uh, I kicked _your_ ass. Remember?”

“I remember you were drunk.”

“I wasn't drunk, I was...slightly not sober,” he said airily, waving his hand. “There's a difference.”

“And just _why_ were you drinking?” she asked as she bent back over his arm.

Sokka let out a breath and rubbed at his stubbled chin. “Girl troubles, mostly.”

“Suki?”

It was like the air suddenly deflated out of her. The uncommonly good mood he had conjured in her soured immediately. She wished that she hadn't asked him now, hadn't brought up the specter of his girlfriend. His very real girlfriend. That he loved and missed.

“Yeah,” he said grimly. “I'm pretty sure we're on the way to a break-up.”

She stiffened and glanced up at him. “Oh? Why?”

“Lots of reasons. You want to know why I got so upset over those rumors about her and Zuko? Well, that's because she's got a crush on him. I've known about it for a long time, and for a long time I thought that was all it was. Pretty harmless, you know? She loved me. But then he and Mai broke up and I just saw this _shift_ , you know? Things were different between them.”

“Do you think she's sleeping with him, like the rumors are saying?”

Sokka stared out the warped glass window, at the empty woods and the mountains beyond, at the snow just starting to fall from the winter gray sky. His jaw worked a little.

“No, I don't. But cheating isn't always physical. It's not just about sex, sometimes. It's what's in your heart...and I think he's in her heart.”

“And you think he feels the same way?”

“I couldn't blame the guy if he did. Suki's...incredible. It'd be hard not to fall in love with her. Have you ever been in love, Azula?” Sokka said slowly, cautiously.

Azula stared down at her knees, feeling a pounding in her chest, in her ears. “No. I'm not exactly the type of woman that men fall to their knees over, Sokka.”

The words sprang out of her before she could stop them, but she looked up at him, aghast to see that he was staring at her in confusion.

“Why do you think that?”

“Just drop it okay?” she said with an edge in her voice. She reached up and touched her temple. “It's just something I know.”

“Well, I think you're wrong about that. You're the exact type of woman that men fall to their knees over.”

 _But not you_ , she thought bitterly and then reminded herself that she wasn't supposed to care, that anything she was starting to feel wasn't real, just another symptom of an illness that was trying its best to shatter every bit of sanity she had.

She vowed right then and there to kill that spark in her chest, the one that ached whenever she looked at him, that softened at his touch, that made her feel, when she wasn't supposed to anymore. She would be empty, just as she had been for so long.

“I'm done,” she said and capped the ink. “You should let it dry for a while before you put your shirt back on.” She stood and reached for her cloak. Sokka watched her with a dark expression on his face.

“Where are you going?”

“I need some air,” she said and then swept out of the mill before he could say anything. She walked around the frozen pond, letting the snow and the cold bite into her, though she welcomed the cold this time. She let it fill her, refusing to warm herself with her chi as she took the cold into her burning skin and let it freeze inside of her.

Cold and empty. She wouldn't feel anything. Not for him. Not for anyone. She was not that girl anymore. She wasn't allowed to be. This was an aberration, an echo, a figment of her imagination, like so many things had been before.

She would not allow herself to do this, whatever this was.

When she looked up, two figures were watching her from the edge of the woods. Their green clothing was vibrant and obscene against the white backdrop of snow on the ground before them. She stared at the men. They had no faces. They never did in her nightmares, or her memories, or even now, standing before her in the flesh.

But no, this wasn't real. These men were dead. She had burned them alive, along with every other living thing in that forest. She had burned it all, standing untouched in the ashes, a girl of fire, of revenge, as the screams around her slowly stopped and the fires raged on.

Azula stared at the two men and they stared back with their faceless faces, and though they had no mouths, she could hear their voices in her ears, echoing back across time.

“ _Oh, she's gonna fight back, huh? I like the fighters!”_

“ _I get her first, Lu, you got to go first the last time!”_

“ _That's fine with me, Xan, you know I like them broken in! I just hope this one doesn't scream like the last one.”_

“ _Just fill her mouth with dirt if you can't take it. Me? I like it when they scream. Let's me know I'm doing a good job.”_

Laughter ran through her head as she backed up a step, her boots slipping and sliding on the wet snow and slippery rocks on the edge of the pond. She clapped her hands over ears to block out the sounds, but there was no stopping it. No stopping the memories of what happened next.

Just as there had been no stopping them back then, when she had been so alone in the forest, knocked half-unconscious by an Earthbent rock to the back of her head. Too weak with hunger and exposure to do more than throw a few handfuls of flames before they'd overpowered her.

Too weak to even call the lightning that had always been so easy for her before. She'd had nothing left. She had been dying before they'd even found her. How happy she had been to see them, before they had shown their true colors. Before they had attacked.

Too weak.

Too alone.

That was what she was. What she would always be. She was nothing. They had made her nothing. They had made her empty.

No. That was wrong. Not empty.

Not empty at all.

They had raped her and even after she had burned them alive, screaming into bone and ash, they had still left something behind...something she had had to rip out, though it had cost her. It had cost her more than she had known it would.

“You're not real,” Azula whispered, eyes squeezed shut as she stumbled away, but it didn't matter. They _had_ been real once. Men of flesh and blood.

What they had done to her was real, and always would be, and she would never be the same again...never love or feel or be anything but the girl who woke up in that merchant's wagon days later with a bastard in her belly and a fire building within her that would burn an entire forest to the ground.

Azula's foot came down on an ice-covered rock. She slipped, stumbling out onto the surface of the icy pond with a shock. She teetered there, gasping for one long moment.

The thin ice on the surface cracked, fracturing outward beneath her boots. Then, the water swallowed her whole and she felt into the pond. She didn't even scream, it happened so fast.

The cold water shocked her as it closed over her head. She sank into the depths, her body seizing with the cold, her broken ribs bursting with bright pain as the weight of her clothing and boots pulled her down.She struggled for the surface, her hand closing on the thin ice, but it broke, sending her back down beneath the surface. She sank again, bubbles streaming from her mouth, her eyes rolling up in her head as everything went black.


	20. Nineteen

****_Compress. Breathe_. _Compress_. _Breathe._

“Come on, come on, come on,” Sokka mumbled, as icy water dripped down his face and he placed his hands over Azula's heart once again, compressing rhythmically, and then leaning down to breathe into her mouth again. “Breathe, _dammit!_ ”

Compress. Breathe. His whole world narrowed to the inert form before him, her black braid splayed against the snowy ground, snowflakes flecking her eyelashes, beads of water clinging to her pale face. Her clothes, soaking wet. He was soaked to the skin too, but he didn't feel the cold.

All he felt was sheer terror.

He'd been watching her from the window of the mill. He had seen her stumble onto the ice, had seen it swallow her whole, with barely a sound. She hadn't screamed, she'd just been gone.

He didn't even remember his flight down the steps and out into the snow, didn't remember running around the edge of the pond, or diving headfirst into the wide hole in the ice where she had disappeared.

The water had been a shock to his system, but it was not his first ice-rescue. He knew what to do.

“Breathe, Princess! COME ON!” he barked at her, fear turning to anger as he clasped his hands over her heart and compressed. Suddenly, she coughed, her tilted back head digging into the snowy bank as a stream of water passed her lips. His heart leaped, and he rolled her to the side. “Easy, easy...”

Azula coughed and then vomited up more water as he let out a shivering breath, reaching out and pushing her hair back from her face.

“Sokka?” she said, bleary-eyed as she looked up at him. She was shivering all of a sudden, her breath fogging from her blue lips.

“I've got you, my Princess,” he said, as something in him loosened a little. She was breathing. She was alive. He scooped her up against his bare chest, one hand beneath her legs, her bare feet dangling. She had lost both of her boots at the bottom of the pond. He hadn't been wearing any boots. Or a shirt.

Despite her sodden clothing, she still weighed next to nothing in his arms. She seemed too dazed to fight him, shivering as she tucked her head against his chest. Just like she had done when they had slept together.

The snow numbed his already frozen feet as he picked his way across the rocky shore of the pond, and up the icy steps into the mill house. He set her down on an old wooden bench they had found upturned in a corner. She was clinging to him, shivering, but he gently pried her arms off.

“I'm s-s-s-so c-c-cold,” she said, her teeth chattering as he cupped her face.

“I know, we need to warm you up. And get you out of these wet clothes,” he said as he kissed her forehead and then turned back to the blackened stone fireplace. There was already a fire burning there, but he threw more wood on the flames, stoking the fire until heat blanketed the room.

Then he turned back to her, and saw her struggling to remove the sodden cloak that he had had to rip off of a sunken log at the bottom of the pond. There was a long, ragged rip in the cloak where he had wrenched it free of the log, only after he'd fumbled with the clasp at her throat for too long.

Now he sank to his knee in front of her, pushing her clumsy fingers aside and easily undoing the clasp he had bent. He tossed the wet material aside as Azula looked into his eyes.

“It w-w-was an accident,” she said firmly.

He started for a moment, and then nodded, pushing his sodden hair out of his face. “I know, my Princess. I saw you go in.”

“Y-you were w-w-watching me?” she said, her hands clasping his shoulders. A gentle smile crossed his cold lips.

“It's a good thing I was, or I would never have known you went in,” he said and then felt a knife-sharp pain in his chest at the thought. “You need to get out of those wet clothes and into a hot bath.”

But they didn't have a bathtub here. Just a rusty old water spigot and a pan to boil water for bathing. This would require some thought on his part.

He left her there, fumbling with the ties on her shirt, while he ran upstairs and grabbed both of their sleeping bags, blankets and pillows, and his pack.

He brought it all down in a bundle, which he tossed down in front of the roaring, crackling fire. Turning, he saw that she was still shivering in her wet clothing, staring into the flames with a dead look in her eyes. Sokka quickly made a nest on the floor in front of the fire, and then came over to her again.

“Come on, you'll warm up as soon as you're out of those wet clothes,” he said, and she looked up at him, startled, as if she hadn't realized he was there.

She blinked at him sleepily. “You saved my life.”

“And you saved mine. We're about even now,” he said, crouching on his heels before her. “I need you to get undressed, Azula. If you want me to leave while you do that, I will. There's a blanket in front of the fire, you need to wrap up in it until I can rig up a hot bath.”

“I...” she said sluggishly, and he nodded, standing again.

“I'll be upstairs. Call me when you're--” But she grabbed his hand, stopping him from leaving.

“Don't leave.”

He turned back toward her and took her other hand. He helped her to her feet, searching her face. Waiting for her stop him, he silently he reached for the buttons on her thick, sopping wet shirt. She didn't fight him. She seemed too exhausted, too numb. He pulled the shirt off of her arms, noting the scars criss-crossing her skin. He swallowed his concerns as Azula shivered in front of him. Now was definitely not the time.

Next, he undid the tie at her waist, sliding his hands into the waistband of her pants, pulling the heavy wet material down her hips. Azula's nails dug into his shoulders as she leaned into him, her breath warm on his wet neck for a moment. Then he dropped back to his knees in front of her, tugging her pants down. She steadied herself on his shoulders, stepping out of the wet material. He tossed it aside and glanced up at her.

She was still wearing her undergarments, soaked though they were. This close, the scars he had seen on her skin at the creek were like pale pink slashes. They were everywhere. He looked up at her as Azula let out a breath, her lips trembling, shame in her eyes as she saw where his gaze had lingered.

“I know...they're ugly,” she said softly, wrapping her arms around her waist, one hand spreading on the bruise still blackening her broken ribs. Sokka stood, tilting her chin up as her gaze fell to the floor. She looked up and he leaned in, kissing her between the eyes.

“I think you're beautiful, Azula,” he whispered against her forehead, feeling her hand on his chest. She trembled in his arms. “I wish you wouldn't hurt yourself like this, though. I wish I could make it better. I wish I knew how to help.”

“You can't,” she said bitterly as his arms spread on her back, pulling her against him. “The cuts... It just helps sometimes. Sometimes...sometimes the only thing I can control is the pain. It...it just helps me. Gives me something to focus on, when everything else is falling apart. It lets me know what's real.”

Sokka's heart squeezed in his chest as she tilted her head back, meeting his eye again. He nodded. “I understand.”

“How? _I_ barely understand. My head is so fucked up sometimes. I nearly drowned because I saw--” But she stopped, fear flitting in her eyes. “It doesn't matter. It wasn't real. Nothing is ever real.”

Sokka spread his hand on the back of her neck, pulling her against his chest again. “I'm real. I'm flesh and blood and I'm right here, Azula. _Here_.” He put her hand over his heart, holding it there as his forehead rested against hers. “Feel my heart beating? That's real. Whenever you need to figure out what's up or down, you can put your hand right here and feel it.”

“Sokka...I...”

“What's real, my Princess?” he whispered, holding her hand there on his chest.

She took in a trembling breath, her other hand slipping around his waist. “You are.”

He kissed her forehead again. “That's right, I am. Now let's get you warmed up.”

He stepped away from her, feeling a tremor in his skin that he tried to ignore. He grabbed the heaviest blanket from the nest he'd made in front of the fire and turned back to her. The look on her face was wondering, her lips parted. When he wrapped the blanket around her, she put her hand back over his heart for a moment.

“Still real,” she said, looking up at him from beneath her lashes.

“And very cold,” he said, smiling at her as he swept her up in his arms again. She made a little noise in the back of her throat, of surprise, or pleasure, he wasn't sure. A glance at her face as he sank down onto the blankets with her made a few thoughts run through his head that he definitely shouldn't have been having.

But he was definitely having them, and for a moment he couldn't stop the flash of images. Thoughts of sinking into her arms before the fire, pulling his mouth along her neck, kissing her cold lips until they heated beneath his, feeling her hands on his back, spreading, her thighs against his hips and--

He covered her with another blanket and stood with a jerk, his lips pressed in a thin line. What the hell was wrong with him?

Swallowing, he realized how raw his throat was feeling. No surprise. He was just as soaked as she was. He could feel her eyes on him as he bent over his pack and pulled out a small flask. Unscrewing the top, he took a swig of the fiery liquid and then held it out to her.

“What is it?” she asked as one of her hands freed themselves from the heavy pile of blankets and took the flask.

“Whiskey.” Her nose crinkled. She sniffed the alcohol and then looked up at him. “It'll help warm you up.”

She hesitated and then took a sip. She coughed on it and then took another drink. She made a face as she swallowed. “Tastes awful.”

“You get used to it,” he laughed, looking around the room. There was a lot of old furniture piled in one of the corners, most of it broken, or rotted. He spotted a pile of wooden planks, stacked on top of a broken-legged table.

“What's going on in that head of yours?” Azula asked, her voice thick as she took another fiery drink. He took the flask from her, took a deep swig and then passed it back.

“We both need a hot bath...and it looks like I'm going to have to do some work to get us one,” he said grimly.

He went to work, shedding his wet, sodden pants and underclothes first. When he turned around, he realized that Azula was blushing as she watched him pull on dry pants and a shirt.

“I thought you would look away,” he said, almost apologetically, but she smiled a little.

“I enjoy a good view as much as the next girl,” she said, taking another drink. His eyebrows lifted as he grabbed their wet clothing from the floor and draped it on a bench in front of the fire to dry. She took another drink as he crouched down in front of her again.

“That's strong stuff, you're going to get drunk if you're not careful,” he said, amused as she looked up at him, her eyes large in the firelight.

“I nearly drowned today, so I can get drunk if I want,” she said, with something of her old self. He grinned and took the flask, downing another swig. “Afraid I'll start a tavern brawl?”

“You? You'd probably start a world war,” he said, as she snatched the flask back, sticking out her tongue at him, just as she had when she'd been redoing his fake tattoos. He bit down on the inside of his lip, feeling something stir deep in his gut. A fire in his belly that had nothing to do with the whiskey.

He hitched in a breath and stood. Focus. He needed to focus on anything but her right now, because looking at her made his breath tighten and his skin buzz and that was definitely wrong and definitely inappropriate and what was _wrong_ with him?

He pulled the wooden planks out of the corner, stacking them on the floor in front of Azula's nest, making a rough rectangle about two feet deep. Azula was lying on her side, watching him work with sleepy eyes. When he pulled their rolled up tent out of his pack, she sat up a little.

“What are you doing?”

“Building a bath tub, pay attention,” he said, flashing her a grin. He spread the tent out on the wooden framework, pushing the canvas down into the depression between the planks to create a crude depression, the edges of the waterproof canvas overhanging the framework. He grabbed some heavy logs from the woodpile and put them down on the edges of the canvas to hold it in place. That done, he stood and admired his work. “Now I just need to heat some water and fill it.”

“You fill it with water. I can heat it,” she said as he looked down at her again. She wiggled her fingers at him. “Firebender, remember?”

It took him about a thirty minutes of hauling water from the outside pump to the makeshift bath tub, but eventually, it was filled to his satisfaction. Azula heated the water with her Firebending, until little curls of steam rolled off of the water. That done, he extracted her from the blankets and helped her into it.

She sighed as she sank into the water up to her chin. She was still wearing her underclothes, but she didn't seem to mind.

“That feels amazing,” she said tiredly as Sokka bent down next to the tub. He sloshed his hand around in the hot water. It did feel good.

“Yeah...but I just realized I don't have a way to empty it,” he laughed. “Guess I could bail the water out with the bucket...probably take a while...”

“Pretty sure you could just collapse it. It's not like it's going to hurt this place. It could use a scrub down,” Azula said, wrinkling her nose at the place. “The Smoke Demons aren't particularly choosy about their safe houses, are they?”

“I don't know, the inn in Alekasha was nice,” he said, grinning as he rested his chin on the edge of the tub. “Where did you stay while I was in the hospital?”

“I was in the hospital for a few days myself, then I went back to the safe house at the storage barn, but... I didn't like being there alone, so I packed up our stuff and came back to the hospital. They let me sleep beside your bed for a few nights, but when you woke up, I rented a room at a boarding house down the street.”

His fingers swirled in the water as he thought for a moment. “I think I remember waking up and seeing you sleeping there with me...”

Azula put her hand over her mouth, but she wasn't hiding a smile. “Oh. Well... I, I was... I was worried about you and I...”

“Seems like we keep taking turns worrying about each other,” he said, with a gentle smile as he pulled off the wet bandage over the cut on his scalp, and then gathered his hair into a knot on top of his head. He secured it with a tie he'd grabbed from his pack.

“I think I get the better end of that deal, to be honest,” she said, her lips twisting. “You've been putting up with a lot from me.”

“I like putting up with you,” he said honestly. “You definitely keep me on my toes. How's the water?”

“Divine.”

“Good, scootch over,” he said, standing and pulling his shirt off. His pants followed. He heard her squeak, her legs drawing up to her chest.

“What are you doing?”

“I'm freezing my ass off,” he said, climbing into the tub. The hot water lapped at his legs as Azula squeaked again and sloshed her way to the other end. He sat down and sighed as the water rose to his chest. He rested his arms on the lip of the canvas and grinned at her. “I told you, I enjoy hot tubbing.”

Azula laughed, hand over mouth. Slowly, she relaxed into the water again and he felt her legs against his. They sat there in the hot water, curls of steam rising around them, the fire cracking and popping in the hearth, and snow hissing at it came down harder than ever.

It was almost nice.

“We might get snowed in,” she said, glancing at the window. “It snows pretty heavily in these mountains at this time of year.”

“I kind of wouldn't mind getting snowed in with you,” he said easily. “So long as I don't have to jump into a frozen pond again. Let's not make that habit.”

Something flashed in her eyes. Shame. She bit down on her lip and draw her legs to her chest again. “It really was an accident.”

“I believe you. Can I ask you something, though?”

“What?”

He licked his lips and swirled his fingers in the water. “What did you see out there?”

She sucked in a huge breath, looking like she might bolt out of the tub, but she didn't. Instead, she ran her hand along the healing cut on her hairline, the one she had gotten in the mine. “Ghosts, Sokka. I always see ghosts. People who can't hurt me anymore, but sometimes I don't know that, can't remember it. And those two...they hurt me a long time ago. I know they're not real, but what they did to me was real, still is real, and I find it hard to remember that they're dead. That they're not going to...to...” But she covered her mouth. Not to hide a smile, but to hide her horror. “I...I don't want to talk about them.”

His insides felt like liquid fire. Anger flooded him, white-hot and hard. Two men. He hadn't thought—hadn't even considered— _two._

“Maybe you need to talk about them, Azula? Maybe it would help? Have you ever told anyone?” he said, hesitantly. Afraid he would spook her. Afraid it would set off one of her panic attacks. But she just sat there in front of him, looking at him sadly.

“Just one person,” she said softly. “And I killed her.” He didn't say anything. He didn't know _what_ to say. When Azula looked up at him, there were tears in her eyes. His heart lurched.

“Who did you kill, Azula?”

“Someone who didn't deserve it.”

He felt a lump forming in his throat as Azula ran her fingertips along one of the scars on her legs. He could see the burn on her shin from the Fire Bug's attack at the mine. She was battered, bruised...and beautiful. So beautiful it made his whole body ache.

“What happened?”

“I'm tired,” she said, standing up in the water, although she wobbled a little, clutching her head. “I think I drank too much.”

He stood up too and touched her arm. She looked up at him and then stood on tiptoe, kissing his cheek and the corner of his mouth. Their gazes met, blue to gold, and he felt a jerk below his navel, a tendril of desire that he could not ignore.

“Azula...”

“Thank you for saving my life, Sokka.”

“Any time,” he said, cupping her face. She covered his hand with her own, leaning into his touch for one long moment. Then she stepped away, climbing out of the makeshift tub. He watched her head upstairs, catching sight of the black flame tattoo on her lower back.

A grin hit him as he shook his head, but there was something brittle in his smile. There was no denying what he was feeling. And he felt like a complete jerk for it.

So, as he got dressed again, stoked the fire, and put food on for dinner, he decided to do what he did best: talk himself out of it.

Azula was attractive. He had always thought she was intimidatingly beautiful. That was half the reason she had scared him so much when he was a teenager. No one that beautiful had a right to be that ruthless, competent and powerful. But now he was starting to get to know her. She stirred all of his protective instincts. And all of his other instincts as well. He couldn't deny it.

He wanted to though, and not just because of Suki. He had found other women attractive before. He'd never acted on it, never really even wanted to, but he'd a few less-than-innocent fantasies about other women over the years. He was only human, after all.

But having those thoughts about Azula was wrong. She was fragile in ways he had never encountered, with trauma he understood all too well. The last thing she needed or wanted was him looking at her like she was a piece of meat. He _shouldn't_ be attracted to her, for every reason he could think of, and then some. Those thoughts shouldn't even be in his stupid head. But they were. They definitely were.

 _It's just because she's here_ , he thought sourly as he tossed rice into the pot of soup he was making. _It's because she's beautiful, and here, and we're so... So what? Wrapped around each other. Involved._ They had survived nearly dying—in Azula's case, twice—so there was a connection there. That was all it was. Convenience. Closeness. Shared experience.

And they were both young, attractive and human. Of course he was having a reaction to her. It was science. It was expected.

And it was never going to happen.

When Azula reappeared, she was dressed in her singed green robe, her hair brushed out and flowing down her shoulders in a thick black sheet. Neither one of them said much while they ate, but he kept stealing glances at her. Eventually, her eyelids started drooping over the second helping of soup he'd forced into her hands, but he took it from her before she could spill it. She didn't bother to carry her blankets back upstairs, where it was drafty and cold, but collapsed onto the nest of blankets in front of the fire.

Aided by a full belly, half a flask of whiskey, a warm bath, and a near-death experience, she seemed to fall asleep within seconds. Sokka sat on the bench, watching her for a long time as the fire cracked and popped and the snow came down, the wind howling like a beast through the cracks. He shivered. It would be a cold night.

He fished the flask from the nest of blankets and started to take a drink. He stopped himself, capping it and shoving it back into his pack, even though he wanted a drink badly. To drink and try to ignore the stirring in his belly, the thoughts simmering at the back of his mind.

As he stood again, Azula made a noise. He knew it was a prelude to one of her nightmares.

This time, when he crouched down beside her, she awoke with a little gasp. When she found his face in the firelight, she gave a shuddering breath.

“Sokka?”

“It's okay, Azula. I'm here.”

He didn't know if she pulled him down into the blankets, or if he sank down of his own accord. It didn't matter. Soon he was lying beneath the blankets with her, his arms around her, her head pillowed on his chest. She slipped back into sleep as his hands stroked her hair. He fought to keep his eyes open, battling with himself in so many ways, but he lost his hold on consciousness soon enough.

They slept all night, wrapped around one another in front of the dying fire. If she had anymore nightmares that night, they didn't wake either one of them.


	21. Twenty

Winter wrapped around them, icy and gray, with howling winds, short blustery days and long, cold nights. Nights they spent wrapped in each other's arms.

Sokka tried to justify it. It was just too damned cold to sleep alone. She seemed to have less nightmares too, so it just made sense to keep bedding together. Nothing else happened, although he often awoke with heat in his chest, his dreams full of images he was hard-pressed to forget whenever she slipped one of her legs over his, her sweet scent filling him with an aching need it was getting harder and harder to ignore.

With that need came guilt. Over Suki. Over even thinking about another woman. Over thinking those things about Azula, who needed so much more from him than his stupid libido. It wasn't right. He was ashamed at himself.

And still, he slept beside her every night.

The days wore on. They set fire to the Fire Sage Temple on Wolf Fang Peak, and watched it burn from a ridge close by. Close enough to see the Sage's evacuating down the snow-covered mountainside after their efforts to control the blaze proved fruitless. Watching it burn, Sokka felt no satisfaction at all.

It was just another rotten deed done in the name of an organization he wanted nothing more than to watch burn to the ground instead. He wanted to see each and every Smoke Demon brought to their knees, but he knew it would be a long time before that happened. And until then, he had to play his part.

And he hated every moment of it.

He was homesick. He missed his sister. His father. His friends. Suki. But whenever the feeling came upon him, he found himself staring at Azula, studying the way the light played in her dark hair, or the plush of her red lips, the way she moved...

Until he caught himself, and he forced his gaze away.

It didn't help that he caught Azula's eye on him too, when she thought he wasn't looking at her. She would quickly look away, pretend to be busy with something. He didn't know what to make of that. Sometimes, she would stop what she was doing and turn to him, putting her hand on his chest and mumbling, “You're real.”

It helped ground her. Helped her breathe, staving off a panic attack or driving back the terrible visions only she could see. He would put his hand over hers, reassuring her that he was real, until the look of confusion in her eyes faded away.

It wasn't much, but it was enough to get through the days as they dragged on. They moved from safe house to safe house. A tiny cabin in the woods. An inn in a large town. An abandoned barn in the middle of a desolate winery. Tenting in the snow.

They were ghosts, usually only coming into villages to resupply, meet a contact, find out what was happening outside of their little bubble.

There was talk about the Fire Lord taking a wife. Rumors about a ball scheduled for the summer. He tried to feel something about that—if Zuko was looking for a wife, that meant he wasn't involved with anyone at the moment. Which meant that the rumors swirling about him and Suki weren't true. Which meant...

What exactly? He didn't know. The rumors persisted, like a knife in his guts, and he had no defense against them. What could he say, what could he do about it? And what kind of hypocrite was he, when he was sleeping next to another woman every night, thinking the things he had no right to think?

It helped when other rumors started swirling, eclipsing the Fire Lord's scandalous love life. News of the rash of fires on Black Rock had spread throughout the Fire Nation. The explosion at the army garrison was also being put on the mad Firebender's shoulders. In fact, it seemed that every time he and Azula pulled off a mission, the credit went straight to the Fire Bug, which was what people had started calling him.

The fire at the Temple, the depot they'd blown up, the ship they'd sunk, the shipment of swords they'd stolen and dropped off at a barn in the middle of nowhere (presumably to be picked up by another agent), the scrolls they burned at a library by the sea; all if these things were being attributed to the Fire Bug.

This would only help them, in the long run. No one was looking for a man and a woman traveling together. The Fire Bug was a convenient scapegoat. Sokka should have been happy that the man was getting all the blame, but he wasn't. It was the things that he knew the Fire Bug were actually responsible for that were weighing on him.

Whole towns were being put to the flame. Farms. One single home in the middle of a city. An entire flock of pig-sheep, burned in their field. There was no sense to it. No rhyme, no reason.

The Fire Bug was mad. He needed to be stopped, but Sokka was in no position to do anything about it. Not when the Smoke Demons were sending him and Azula on mission after mission. They barely had time to sleep, moving from one place to the other, like whipped beasts driven before the plow. What terrible harvest would their work sow?

It began to wear on them both, as winter stretched on. They were both on edge, exhausted, frustrated. Something had to break.

Their latest safe house was a small cottage by the sea. Set among desolate, ice-covered rocks, with a towering cliff dropping off precipitously in front of them and a stand of weather-beaten pines at their back, the place felt lonely and cold. The wind was heavy with salt, stinging their faces as it swept through the trees. Snow littered the ground in humps, but it was the ice that made everything sparkle, dripping like crystals from the eaves, the boughs of the trees.

The cottage was an improvement on their last safe house, a tent in the forest. It had an actual bed in it, with a straw-filled mattress, a table and chairs, a wash tub. It wasn't much, but it was better than sleeping on the cold, frozen ground. Sokka liked the place, lonely as it was, with its sea view and searing wind. It was cozy. Warm.

They both needed a rest. Their last mission had come perilously close to disaster. They'd barely escaped a contingent of soldiers who had chased them through the woods after they'd put fire to one of the army's grain storage facilities.

Sokka sat on the bed next to Azula, watching as she wrapped a bandage around a burn on his bicep. The sting of it was almost unbearable, but he held on, watching her work. When she reached into his pack and pulled out his flask, he waved her off.

“Are you sure? We don't have any other pain meds,” she said bluntly. “You used the last of them when your head was still healing.”

“I don't need them,” he said bracingly, but the look in her eyes was disbelieving.

“You know, you don't have to act all manly for my benefit. That's a second degree burn. I know how much it hurts, so go ahead and yell.”

He met her eyes and then tilted his head at her and launched in. “Motherfucking son of a cocksucking whore that fucking bitch hurts!”

Her eyebrows climbed her forehead, a smile tugging on her lips. “There, now don't you feel better?”

“No.”

She shoved the flask against his chest and started packing up their meager medical supplies. He made a note to buy more on their next trip into town. Whenever that would be. They had only been given instructions to come to this safe house, and to wait for their contact to come to them. He didn't like waiting, but maybe they'd get a few days of rest in.

He took a drink of whiskey and then offered it to her too. She waved him off, meticulously packing up the supplies. He took another drink. And another, his eyes glued to her.

Feeling his eyes on her, Azula looked up at him. “What?”

“Nothing.” He took a drink.

“If you're going to get drunk, could you do it after you chop us some wood? We're running low.”

“Why do I always have to chop the wood? Why don't you do it? I'm injured, you know.”

“I know, but I'm not the one with the big burly man-arms,” she said, prodding his shoulder. “Besides, I'm going to make dinner.”

“You don't have to. Really,” he said flatly, but she stuck her tongue out at him.

“It's just soup. You just throw everything into a pot and wait, I think I can handle it.”

“Don't do that.”

“Make soup?”

“Stick your tongue out at me,” he said huskily, with heat in his voice. Azula froze, her lips parting. Sokka wet his lower lip and bit down on it, watching the heat climb to her face.

“Or you'll do what?” she challenged him, her gaze flicking to his lips and back.

“Something I shouldn't, probably,” he said, reaching out and cupping her face. He slid his thumb against her bottom lip. Something bloomed in her eyes, something deep and needy. Then she seemed to grab hold of herself, pushing his hand away.

“You're drunk,” she bit out, grabbing the bag of supplies and practically leaping up from the bed.

“I'm not drunk, Princess.” But his pulse was thundering in his ears. He should stop. He should stop and walk away, pretend he was joking, pretend he wasn't about to do what he knew with certainty that he had been about to do, which was something stupid. Unbelievably stupid.

He was getting angry. At himself. Her. The situation. The ache in his guts that wouldn't go away.

“I'm not a princess, Sokka,” she said with a sigh, shoving the bag back into her pack. “I haven't been for a very long time.”

“Yes, you are. Zuko never banished you. Never disinherited you or stripped any of your titles from you. You're still his heir. I think he always wanted you to come back.”

“My brother doesn't care about me one wit, Sokka. He never did. I never gave him a reason to,” she said sharply. “In fact, I tried to murder him on several occasions, so he's probably very relieved that I've kept my distance. Every family has its black pig-sheep, its dirty little secret. Growing up, I always assumed that Zuko was the family disappointment, but it's me. It's always been me.”

“That's some pretty low self-esteem you got there, Princess.”

She turned on him, her cheeks flaming now, anger in her gaze. “Excuse me?”

“The Azula I met all those years ago wouldn't let anyone make her feel inferior, not even herself. Where is that girl? I know she's in there somewhere,” Sokka said, standing and walking over to her. He bent down, squinting as he peered into her eyes. “Hmmm...she's definitely still in there. That hint of fire, that spark of anger...there's that ruthless girl.”

“Are you trying to piss me off? Because it's working,” she snapped, her hands fisting at her sides.

He didn't know what he was trying to do, but seeing the anger in her eyes satisfied him a little. He couldn't say why, but he liked watching her rearing up at him. It made his blood heat, his heart pound, his skin buzz.

“Good. Get mad. Tell the world to kiss your ass, Azula. Tell them that you're not going to let anyone treat you like you're less than what you are,” he ground out, stepping forward. She stepped back, hitching in a breath as her back hit the wall. He leaned in, both hands on either side of her head and braced against the wall. “You are motherfucking force of nature. Say it.”

Her eyes were blown wide, the anger in her eyes edged out by fear, and also something else. Something hot and wild.

“Sokka--”

“Say it!” he barked.

Her eyebrow immediately quirked and she glared at him. “No one tells me what to fucking do.”

And her hand slammed into the center of his chest, pushing him back a step. A grin broke out on his face, sharp and full of satisfaction. “Now that's the bitch I was looking for. ”

She slapped him. So hard it turned his head and made him go cross-eyed for a moment. Lifting a hand to his cheek, he blinked a few times, bringing her back into focus.

“Yeah, I deserved that,” he mumbled.

“What is your fucking problem, Sokka?” Azula said, pushing him back another step. “Look, I'm exhausted, and so are you, but don't you dare take your foul mood out on me!”

“I wasn't--” Was he? He wasn't sure. He had definitely been trying to take _something_ out on her, but he wasn't entirely sure what.

No, that was a lie. He knew exactly what he'd been trying to do.

“I'm sorry,” he said shortly, scrubbing a hand down his face. “I'm being a jerk. I'm just so... I'm frustrated.”

_Extremely, painfully frustrated._

“So am I, but you don't see me taking it out on you,” she bit at him and then crossed her arms over her chest. “One of us should take a walk or something. We need a little breathing space. I think we're just sick of each other.”

He wasn't sick of her at all, though. He didn't tell her that, just nodded and walked over to pick up his shirt and his cloak. “I'll go chop some more firewood.”

“I think that's best,” she said shortly and turned to the table, where their food was piled. She started chopping vegetables as he pulled on his boots, the knife banging against the table as she took her temper out on the carrots. She didn't say anything when he left.

The wind was icy as he stepped out into the glittering world, his boots crunching over brittle, jagged patches of ice and slippery rocks as he made his way to a stump set beneath the trees. There was a rusted ax jammed into the stump, a pile of rough-hewn logs tumbled beside it.

Just as Azula had taken her frustrations out on the vegetables, he took his out on the logs. The burn on his arm ached with every swing of the ax, the logs splitting with the force of his blows. His breath steamed into the air, sweat running down his back.

What had he been trying to do back there? Trigger one of her panic attacks? No, he hadn't wanted that. Or did he just want to see her get angry? Maybe he'd been spoiling for a fight.

Mostly, he was sure he was just taking out his sexual frustrations out on her. Which wasn't fair to her at all. It wasn't her fault he was finding her more and more attractive the more they traveled together, the more they slept in each other's arms. That his guilt over his attraction to her was driving him like a whipped dog. It wasn't Azula's doing at all.

He was a bastard. An utter bastard. The last thing Azula needed was some jerk treating her like that. What if he had triggered one of her panic attacks? What if he'd ruined all of the progress they'd made? Just because he'd wanted to get her riled enough to...

To do what, though? What had been his end game there?

He was afraid to explore that line of thought, though. He knew what lay at the end of it, and it was nothing but regret and sin and need.

Sokka split one last log, and stopped, panting, his head bent into the wind to dry the sweat on his temples as he vowed not to take his own frustrations out on her again. She didn't deserve that. He'd find some way of apologizing.

Gathering up an armful of firewood, he walked back up to the little cottage on the cliff. Freeing one arm, he swung the door open, and stopped when he heard a gasp. The wood fell at his feet as he met Azula's swimming eyes.

He looked from her to the knife in her hands, and then down to her bared thigh, where a cut on her skin was slowly dripping blood.

* * *

 

Azula heard the door bang behind Sokka, and then glanced out the window, watching him walk down to the stand of weather-beaten trees. She bit down on her lip, feeling an energy beneath her skin that buzzed out and down, circling the hollows of her body.

She knew the feeling all too well. Hadn't she been feeling it for weeks now, whenever he looked at her? Whenever his arms went around her in the bed they shared? They hadn't discussed their sleeping arrangements, other than Sokka's assertion that it was too cold to sleep alone. Was it more than that to him, though? More than just shared body heat?

She didn't know. She had tried talking herself out of the way she felt every morning, every night, every time he met her gaze, smiled at her, gently ran his hand along her flesh.

Did he even know what he was doing to her? The madness that he was raising beneath her skin, deep in her belly where everything was hot and warm and wanting?

And what had he been trying to do today?

There had been something in his eyes, something that had told her that he wasn't trying to get her angry, not really. He'd wanted some kind of response from her, some reaction that was beyond her, because all she'd been able to feel was how hard her heart was pounding. The heat in his eyes had sizzled her, scorching down to the roots of her soul.

She knew what she had wanted to do to him, and it hadn't been slapping his face.

She turned back to the vegetables, chopping potatoes into rough chunks and tossing them into the pot with the carrots. Her thoughts were dark. Darker than dark.

For weeks she had tried to tell herself that she was empty, a shell, unable to feel anything. But she wasn't. She knew that now. She wanted him, in ways she hadn't ever thought she would want a man again. A part of her was terrified to feel that way, sure that it was all a lie, that pain would follow. That if he put his hands on her she would scream as she curled up and blew away like old leaves. Maybe she would. Maybe it didn't matter.

She didn't trust her own feelings. Didn't trust anything...except him. She wanted to trust him, and that was the most terrifying thing of all.

But he wasn't hers. He would never be hers, not even for a night, so the things she felt meant nothing at all. She was made nothing again. And again. And again.

Pain ripped through her, tears in her eyes. What she wouldn't give to be the empty shell she'd once thought she was. Shells didn't feel pain like this, so deep she couldn't root it out with the sharpest knife.

Pain. It was all she had. All she had to grab hold of. Her oldest friend. The only lover she had ever had.

“ _Go ahead and bleed. It's what you deserve,”_ a voice said from everywhere and nowhere at once. _“Pain is the only thing you need.”_

A shuddering gasp left her as she gripped the knife in her hand and pushed her green robe open. She lifted her short nightgown up, and then...

Pain. Biting. Deep. Comforting.

She sighed in relief as the knot in her chest loosened a little. But it wasn't enough. She needed more. Needed something she could control. She started to drag the tip of the knife along her thigh again, but the door opened, letting in the wind, Sokka, and reality.

She gasped as she met Sokka's gaze. Saw him drop the firewood at his feet, his gaze stormy.

“Sokka...” she said, trying to hide the blood flowing down her leg. “I...”

“I thought you weren't going to do that again?” he said softly, still framed in the doorway.

“I... I don't have to explain myself to you,” she said, pushing her thighs together and backing up against the wall again. Her face was burning, her limbs like water.

“No, you don't. But I don't have to stand by and watch you hurt yourself either,” Sokka said. “Especially when it's my fault.”

She started, blinking at him. “Your fault? No--”

“I shouldn't have done... Any of that,” he said bitterly. “I didn't want this to happen.”

“That's not why—” But Sokka was reaching for something above him, on the outside of the cottage. She heard something break, and then he stepped inside, pushing the door closed on the cold, salt- and ice-laden wind. Her brow furrowed in confusion when she spotted the icicle in his hand. “What are you doing?”

“A little experiment,” he said, approaching her slowly. “Do you trust me?”

She didn't hesitate, looking up into his eyes. “Yes.”

He hung his head for a moment, shame burning in his eyes, but when he looked up at her, he had a determined glint burning there. “Show me.”

She bit down on her lip, feeling the urge to run. She didn't. Instead, she pushed her robe open and lifted her nightgown, showing him the bloody cut on the inside of her thigh. Sokka grabbed a cloth from the table and pressed it against the cut.

“It's not deep,” she whispered. “It'll stop bleeding soon.”

“I know I can't stop you, but I don't want you to do this again. So that means we're going to have to find other things for you to do when you feel the urge to cut yourself. Okay?”

“Like what?” she said, her voice breaking.

He tossed the bloody rag down and turned back to her, looking her up and down thoughtfully. “Show me where you were going to cut next, if I hadn't walked in.”

Her hands shaking, she slipped her hand between her thighs, running her finger along the skin above the other cut she had made, just below her underwear. “There.”

“Hold still,” he said, and slid the icicle against her thigh, right in the spot she had pointed to. It was a shock against her hot skin. She jerked away, but he followed, pressing it against her skin until there was no retreating. “Tell me when to stop, when you can't handle any more.”

Water dripped down her thigh, shockingly cold. Sokka pressed the icicle against her skin until she was squirming in place, gasping, grasping his arm. The cold bit into her, searing, numbing. It was a different kind of pain. A cold pain, but pain nonetheless.

“Stop!” He immediately pulled the icicle away, leaving her gasping, biting her lip. She pushed her hand between her legs, feeling the raw, wet skin, the water mingling with the blood from her cut. She looked up at him. “That hurt. I... Do it again.”

He pushed the icicle against her other thigh, branding her like a cold lick of flame until she couldn't stand it anymore and she asked him to stop. The icicle was slippery in his hand as he stepped back, watching her with a strange look on his face.

“Did that help?”

“I... Yes. I think so.”

“Good. We'll do this until the ice melts. Then we'll think of something else. I don't want you to cut yourself again,” he said, walking over to the fire and tossing the icicle in. It hissed, steam rising as it sizzled and melted on contact. He turned back to her. “Azula...”

“It wasn't your fault,” she said, walking over to him, her knees like water. “My head... There's a lot going on up here, okay?”

“I was being a jerk though. I was taking some stuff out on you that wasn't _your_ fault. It wasn't right. Nothing that's going on in my head is right at the moment.”

“What's going through your head, Sokka?”

But Sokka just cupped her face, staring into her eyes. Then he kissed her forehead, lingering as she slid her hands up his chest, putting her palm over his heart. She could feel his heartbeat, strong and steady.

“You're real,” she whispered, the scent of him filling her senses. He smelled like wood and ice, the salty sea air, fur and sweat and Sokka.

“So are you,” he said and then sighed. “And that's the problem. You're so damned real to me, Azula.”

He tilted her head back, his finger on her chin, staring into her eyes with an intensity that shook her to her foundations. Her blood rushed in her ears, the world a blur around her.

She rose up on tiptoe, her arms sliding around his shoulders. “I'm realer than she is.”

She pressed her mouth against his before he could respond, before she could rethink it, before every force in the world tried to stop her. Sokka started in surprise, stiffening against her. Then, a split second later, he melted, his arms wrapping around her waist as he deepened the kiss with a groan.

The door slammed open a moment later, letting in a gust of cold sea air that shocked them apart. Reeling, confused, her lips warm and tingling, Sokka's taste in her mouth, she found herself staring at a cloaked figure framed in the doorway.

There was an amused smile on Rian's lips as he looked between the two of them.

“By all means, don't stop on my account.”


	22. Twenty-One

****Rian's brow arched as he looked around the cottage's only room. He took in the table piled with their meager stockpile of food, the fire burning in the hearth, their packs in the corner, the bed beneath the frosted up window, their clothing strung across the room to dry. And the two of them, still gripping each other tightly.

She didn't know why, but it felt obscene, seeing him standing in the doorway, amusement dancing in his dark eyes as his gaze narrowed on her hand on his chest.

“What a cozy little love nest.”

“What are you doing here?” Sokka sneered, his voice a growl as he stepped forward, effectively putting himself between herself and Rian.

Rian's amusement was evident in a little chuckle that lifted the hair on the back of her neck and made her back up a step. She clutched the green robe closed, crossing her arms over her chest as the Smoke Demon looked from Sokka to her and back again

“You were given instructions to wait for your next contact here. I suppose it's hard to remember anything with that little brute brain of yours,” Rian said blandly, taking off his cloak and tossing it on the bed. Then he pulled out one of the chairs and flopped down in it, propping one of his slushy boots on the table. “How _is_ your head, Tazeo?”

“I can't complain,” Sokka ground out, his eyes flashing.

“I was so upset to see you in that hospital bed on Black Rock. It would have been such a shame if you'd died,” Rian said, whipping out his wicked little knife and spearing one of their apples from the table. He took a bite, chewed and then smiled.

Sokka leaned against the table, his hands flat on the surface. “Oh, I'm sure you were beside yourself with worry.”

“Well, if you weren't around, who else would protect our beautiful, fragile princess?” Rian said, his voice pitched low. He turned his dark eyes on Azula and there was something in his gaze. Something knowing and... _coveting._ It made her skin crawl.

“Lucky for you, that's not an issue,” Sokka said, the threat evident in his voice.

“And I can protect myself,” Azula said sharply, stepping forward. “From anyone and anything.”

“Oh, no doubt,” Rian said easily, taking another bite of the apple. “You've both proven how competent you are. Other than the incident at the mine on Black Rock, you've been the perfect agents. My superiors within the organization are very pleased with your performances.”

“I don't need a pat on the back,” Sokka said, pushing away from the table. “I'm just happy to be working against the Fire Lord, in whatever way that I can.”

Rian's eyebrow arched and he turned his attention on Azula. “And you, Princess Azula?”

“My brother is a traitor to everything my father taught us. He's a traitor to his Nation and his family. He doesn't deserve that throne,” she said, her eyes narrowing. She saw Sokka glance at her from the corner of his eye, but then his focus was back on Rian.

Rian tipped his head back, chewing thoughtfully as he looked between the two of them. “Your loyalty to the cause has been noted, along with your performance. As I said, my superiors are pleased with you, Princess. However, they've asked me to warn you that lying to them again will result in immediate retaliation.”

Azula started forward. “Lying?”

“We know everything, Princess,” Rian said, and he glanced at Sokka, who was glaring at him, his hands clasped to the knife at his belt. It wasn't a subtle threat on either of their parts.

She felt cold sweat drip down her back. What could he know? There were so many things. That she was only there to save Zuko's life. That Sokka was undercover as Tazeo. That Mai was working to take down the organization...

“We haven't lied--” she started, but he slammed the knife down onto the table with a resounding thud, the apple core still impaled upon it.

“The mine collapse was not caused by either of you. A man known as the Fire Bug set fire the mine, along with three others on the island that night and in the days that followed. When I asked how Tazeo was injured, dear Princess, you lied to me and said that the mine was unexpectedly unstable. Not that you fought a fire mad Bender, whose presence at the scene of your would-be crime could jeopardize our entire mission!”

Azula took in a sharp breath. “You're right, I lied. Despite the fact that the mine was destroyed, I was afraid that it would still be seen as a failure. I was trying to protect Tazeo. And myself. The Fire Bug's presence was unexpected and unfortunate. That he got away, even more so. It was my fault that he was able to trap us in that mine in the first place, so if you're going to place blame and mete out punishment, it should go squarely to me and not to Tazeo, who was not in a position to stop the Fire Bug at the time of the attack, or in a position to tell the truth when you came seeking it.”

Rian's boot slipped off of the table. As he stood, Sokka darted to the side, putting himself between her and Rian again.

Rian's dark eyes glittered as they slid from Sokka to her and back again. “My, my...you're both so protective of one another. Would you die to save her, Tazeo?”

“Absolutely. But I won't go down without a fight.”

“Interesting,” Rian said, his lips pursing. “You think I'm threatening her?”

“What else am I supposed to think?”

“I wouldn't credit you with enough brains to string two thoughts together, actually,” Rian said mildly and then relaxed his stance. “But you're both in luck, I haven't come to deliver punishment. Your lies have been noted, but since the mine collapsed, as we had intended, the only harm done was that the Fire Bug saw you there. And since he's a wanted criminal himself, it's unlikely he'll be pointing fingers any time soon.”

“So he's not a Smoke Demon?” Azula asked.

Rian's smile was enigmatic and maddening. “He's certainly doing a fine job drawing attention elsewhere, isn't he? Many of our operatives have benefited from his work, yourself included. No one is looking for deliberate sabotage with a fire mad Bender on the loose.”

“So you're just going to let him run around killing people?” Sokka interjected.

Rian's brows lifted. “Concerned for the citizenry, are we? You do surprise me, Tazeo. ”

“It's just...if he gets caught, which he's sure to do eventually, there goes our smoke screen,” Azula said quickly.

“We'll burn that bridge when we get there, so to speak,” the Smoke Demon said, pulling out a scroll. “The Fire Bug is not your concern. The two of you have performed so well...despite my misgivings, that my superiors have set you a task that I think suits your... _unique_ abilities.”

“And what's that?” Azula said warily, taking the scroll. She unrolled it and scanned the contents. “An invitation?”

“Lady Shura is throwing a grand celebration for her birthday at her estate on Ruby Island. You are to attend the party.”

Azula frowned. “I know Shura, or I did once. She's a ridiculous old cow and a massive gossip. She'll recognize me the moment I step foot in her home and there's no way me coming to her birthday party won't become the talk of the Fire Nation. Zuko will eventually hear about it. Probably straight from Shura's big fat mouth the minute she gets back to the city.”

Rian waved his hand dismissively. “It's a masquerade, so your identity will be safe enough. You're not there for Lady Shura. Her party is just a convenience.”

“What exactly are we to do at this party?” Sokka said warily.

The Smoke Demon pulled a sharp smile and looked Sokka directly in the eyes. “The only thing I'm sure you're good at, Tazeo. Assassination.”

* * *

 

Sokka wanted a drink. Badly.

There was a headache forming between his eyes as he stood on a pedestal in a tailor's shop. The stoop-shouldered man who ran the shop was bent over, hemming the bottom of his trousers, pins sticking out of his mouth as he hummed to himself.

Despite the fact that he usually loved shopping, Sokka wasn't having much fun today. His mind was full of thoughts he couldn't banish.

A wavy mirror probably older than the tailor stood in front of Sokka, and he had no choice but to look at his own reflection as the man worked his magic with a needle and thread. He didn't like what he saw.

The man before him was a stranger. His hair was down to his shoulders now, the scrum of beard hiding the familiar architecture of his face. His eyes were stark blue, harsh beneath his furrowed brows. The jagged scar on his hairline from the mine accident was white against his dark skin. The tailor hadn't put any sleeves on the suit yet, and he could see the fake tattoos burning on his skin like black bruises.

In the red suit, unfinished as it was, he looked nothing like himself, which was good for his cover, but it made his skin crawl to look at himself. He looked like the brute Rian thought him to be, but did he have it in him to be a murderer? To plunge a knife into an innocent man's back, all in the name of a cause he didn't even believe in? To save a fake identity that he found repugnant?

He stared into his own eyes, stranger's eyes, trying to separate himself from Tazeo. Tazeo would not hesitate to kill anyone. He'd read as much in Mai's dossier. But he wasn't Tazeo. He was Sokka.

He was a warrior. He wasn't like Aang. He didn't believe in pacifism. People died in war, and he knew that he was willing to take lives if that meant keeping his loved ones safe. Unflinchingly, unreservedly.

But could he justify the murder of a man who was not a threat to him or anyone else he loved? Whoever this man was—Kato Sanyi, Rian had said his name was—he had angered the Smoke Demons in some way. His death had been handed down from on high and passed to them as yet another way for he and Azula to prove their worth, and their loyalty. That wasn't all, though.

Sokka suspected, as did Azula, that the Smoke Demons were using this man's murder as a trial run for Zuko's eventual assassination. Both Mai and Azula had been told that the Demons would send the two of them to take out Zuko eventually, which was the whole reason Sokka was there in the first place. However, unlike Zuko's probably assassination attempt at their hands, this time they would not be able to fake it, or foil it. They would have to do it for real.

It made him sick, but he could see what the Smoke Demons were thinking.

What better way to prove to the higher ups in the terrorist organization that they were up to the task of taking out the Fire Lord than killing a man in the middle of a high society party? If they failed, then their lives were forfeit, their chances of foiling Zuko's assassination destroyed.

Ever since Rian had left their little cottage by the sea, looking far too smug about something for Sokka's comfort, Sokka had been obsessively rolling this mission around in his head, unable, perhaps unwilling, to blindly accept the man's death as a calculated loss. They had burned down temples, depots, stolen weapons, set fire to an entire island's livelihood, but no lives had been lost. He could still go home, back to his life, and live with himself and his choices.

Would that still be the case if he killed this man, this Kato Sanyi?

His head was pounding as he watched the tailor work his magic. When he was finished, the tailor brushed off a few errant strands, asking Sokka how he liked it. He mumbled a satisfactory reply as he stared at himself in the mirror.

A deep red tunic embroidered with flames, cropped pants of the same color, with black structural piping at the sides, pulling it snugly against his muscular chest, supple black leather boots, and a matching jacket with ebony buttons. Despite his dark skin and blue eyes, he looked every bit the Fire Nation citizen.

He missed wearing furs.

He took off the finished suit, watching the old man proudly fold the suit into tissue-lined boxes, which he then put into paper bags. He paid the man and slumped out of the shop, purchases in hand.

It was snowing again. In the South Pole, they would have called the little flakes coming down “flurries”, but here in the Fire Nation, when it snowed so rarely on most of the lower elevation islands, the citizens were treating it like an apocalypse.

“Spirits, you'd think they'd never seen snow before,” Sokka mumbled as one woman passed him carrying a huge box filled with milk bottles and bread.

Ruby Island was one of the jewels of the Fire Nation, filled with the estates of the richest citizens, most of them with titles and more money than they knew what to do with. The town before him was affluent, filled with high end shops selling silks, jewelry, gold, expensive rugs and functionally useless gold-plated knick-knacks meant to impress the neighbors.

He stopped at one extravagant shop selling antiques and peered into the window, noting the man behind the counter, who was busy counting a fat stack of gold coins. He had a smirk on his face as he pocketed some of the coins off of the top of the pile. Sokka's hand strayed to the knife tucked into the small of his back for a moment, feeling sick to his stomach.

Kato Sanyi. Their target. He had sent Azula on alone for this very reason. Rian had told them that Sanyi had a shop in town, and that he lived in an apartment above it. It would be easier, simpler, to kill the man in his home...but the Smoke Demons wanted him killed at the party.

He had no idea why.

Sokka felt bile in his throat as he stared at the man through the shop window for a long moment, memorizing his face.

Then he forced himself to walk away, his thoughts heavy.

He found his next destination a short walk down the street, and ducked into a little mask shop tucked in between a caterers and an antiques store. He walked the rows of masks on display, overwhelmed by the choices before him. He realized he was staring blankly at a mask shaped like a pig-chicken for too long when the shopkeeper asked if he needed any help.

“Uhh...yeah, I'm going to a masque tonight and--”

“At Lady Shura's? I believe we've had all of her guests in here! She throws some of the most decadent parties, you know. A fine customer too,” the woman crowed in delight. “We're the only mask shop on Ruby Island, but still—we're the best! Hand-made you know. The finest craftsmanship and--”

“Yeah, I just need two masks. One for myself and one for my--” He stumbled a little. His what? He flashed to the kiss in the cottage, heat searing down his spine for a moment. “My, uh, my wife.”

“Of course, of course! We have matching his and her masks here on display against the back wall. Now, what are wearing to the party?”

Sokka shrugged. “Somethin' red. I don't know what she's wearing. She's buying her dress right now. I said I'd get the masks. I didn't realize there'd be such a...fine selection.”

The woman saw how lost he was and took pity on him. “Hmmm... Well, then you'll want something simple that will go with just about anything.”

“And something that no one else at the party will have. I don't want to mistake my wife for another woman,” he said with a laugh, as if bypassing romantic entanglements were his only concern. Finding Azula in a sea of identical masks while they were trying to murder a man would only make things more difficult.

“Not to worry, not to worry. Each of our masks are totally unique. You'll be the only ones wearing them at the party, I guarantee it,” the woman said and then launched in on her sales pitch. As if he had anywhere else to shop for a mask at the last minute. He was a guaranteed sale.

Eventually, he settled a pair of black harlequin masks that covered most of their face, but left their mouths free, in case they needed to signal one another from across the room. Elaborate red scroll-work lined the eye holes of the masks, almost like lace.

Sokka paid for his purchases, glad that Rian had given them a hefty sack of gold before he'd left. He left the shop and carried his bulging sacks to the inn where they had been staying since yesterday. The rest he had been hoping to get at the little cottage by the sea had been short-lived, but he was almost grateful for Rian's arrival to the cottage. Preparations for the masque at Lady Shura's estate had given them no time to discuss the big fat elephant koi in the room.

They had kissed.

He could still feel Azula's warm lips against his, taste her sweet taste in his mouth, feel her arms around his shoulders, her hands in his hair, her body pressed against his...

What had he been thinking, kissing her back? He should have pushed her away. Should have explained why he couldn't, shouldn't, mustn't... But he hadn't. He hadn't wanted to. He still didn't want to, and his lack of regret was adding to his general misery.

He felt guilty. About his unfaithful thoughts. About the way his body ached whenever he looked at Azula. About taking advantage of her vulnerability. About cheating on Suki. It was just a kiss, but it counted. He knew it counted. He could never make it right, and it was just so much worse because he wanted nothing more than to continue that damned kiss, to see where it would go, how far, how deep he could fall...

 _I'm a complete bastard_ , he thought darkly as he came into the room and found himself staring Azula, who stood in front of a mirror on the wall, examining her face. She was wearing makeup, the first makeup he'd seen her wear since they'd started traveling together. Her red lips only enhanced her dark beauty, the line of kohl on her lashes drawing out the golden honey color of her eyes.

She was wearing a long red dress, with a high collar piped in black, with long embroidered sleeves that covered her arms. It was a simple dress, but it hugged her slender form, flattering her even more. Sokka felt heat flood his face as he closed the door with his foot. She half-turned to face him and flipped her hair over her shoulder.

“What do you think?”

“You look stunning,” he breathed as he put his bags down on the bed. Looking at her made his mouth dry up, his knees knock. Stunning didn't quite cover it, but he was having trouble thinking.

“It's not too simple?” she said, tugging at the collar and shaking her long sleeves out.

He felt a pang in his gut at that, thinking of the scars on her arms. He walked over to her and put his hands on her shoulders from behind. She looked at his reflection in the mirror as he studied her...and then himself. She barely reached his chin, and as his arms slipped around her, she seemed to nestle into the contours of his chest, fitting there perfectly. Like she belonged there.

“It is simple, but that's why it's so beautiful. You don't need to drip with jewels and frills to outshine everyone, Azula,” he said against her temple as she placed her hands over his on her stomach. “You just have to be yourself.”

“You certainly know how to flatter a girl.”

“I'm just telling the truth,” he said as they swayed together in front of the mirror. This was too intimate. Too familiar. He knew it and so did she, but neither one of them broke the moment. She seemed thoughtful as she rested her head back against his shoulder. “What's going on in that beautiful head of yours?”

“Something ugly,” she sighed. “You should let me do it.”

“We talked about this,” he said shortly, shaking his head. “It's not happening.”

Azula turned in his arms, putting one hand against his heart. “I can handle it. I've done it before and you know that.”

“That's exactly why I'm not going to let you,” he said, his hands sliding up to cup her face.

“You don't have to be so damned chivalrous all the time,” she started, but he shook his head.

“It's not chivalry, Azula. I'm worried about what that might do to you. You're strong, but taking a man's life... An _innocent_ man's life, I don't want that for you.”

“I don't want that for you, either. I know you've never murdered anyone. You don't know what it's like, the toll it takes on you. If I can save you from that--”

“I know what's at stake, Azula,” he said, resting his forehead against hers. “My mind is made up. If I'm caught, or it all goes wrong, then there's a chance you can get away. Don't wait for the Smoke Demons to find you. I want you to go straight to Zuko. Tell him everything. I don't care if that risks losing the mole within the palace. Bring Aang and Toph in. If the Avatar can't protect Zuko, then no one can.”

“And what about you? Do you honestly think I would just leave you there?”

The specter of their too-brief kiss seemed to haunt them. He could see it in her eyes. Had it been running through her head ever since too? Was she regretting it? Or did she ache like he did, deep in her bones, for him to slide his mouth over hers, to explore this blazing thing between them, which they had barely even tasted?

“You will if you have to, Azula. If something happened to you, I'd never forgive myself.” He withdrew, his hands falling away from her. “We'd better get ready. We don't want to be late.”

He turned away from her and reached for the bags he'd set on the bed.

“I'm sorry, Sokka, but I can't let you do this,” Azula said behind him.

Something hard came down on the back of his head. He crumpled to the floor, blackness instantly overcoming his vision, sweeping him away on a roaring tide of screaming emptiness.

 


	23. Twenty-Two

Too bright.

Too loud.

Too many warm bodies.

The tightness in Azula's chest threatened to choke her as she was escorted into Lady Shura's sprawling mansion. The place was as gaudy as she'd assumed, gilt covering everything, clashing décor, hideous vases, and a preponderance of lewd paintings of handsome young men draped in furs and little else.

Lady Shura had been a fixture at the palace when she'd been growing up. She was at least fifty, possibly older, although she acted like a giggling coquette, throwing herself at any man who would have her, from stable boys to dukes to her son's friends. Azula had thought, for a brief moment in time, that Ozai had had a thing going with Shura, just before the Avatar had been found. Which was ridiculous. Surely her father had had better taste than some cleavage-y spectacle whose only type could narrowed down to “breathing.”

Shura had spared no expense for her party. That was evident in the décor (tacky, loud and probably outrageously expensive), the heaping piles of food on silk-draped tables lining the walls (delicious and decadent), the waiters carrying glasses of wine and champagne amongst the giggling guests, and the musicians playing court on a gilt-edged dias between the huge marble doors that looked out on Shura's expansive gardens.

The guests were masked, giggling secretively, laughing riotously, drunk already or on the way there. A hundred perfumes battled in the air, turning Azula's stomach as she stepped into the crowd of masked celebrants, her gaze darting from one mask to the next. Each one was different. A dragon, a badgermole, a lion-turtle...

Her own mask felt heavy on her face, sweat pooling on her temples. She was sure someone was going to recognize her. Surely many of the people at the party were regulars at the palace, and in the Caldera City. She had been their princess, once.

Now? She was an infiltrator. An assassin. By the end of the night, one of these masked revelers would be dead by her hand.

She clenched her shaking hands at her sides, flinching as someone bumped her, sloshing champagne on the floor with a bawdy laugh.

“Whoops!” a woman in a monarch butterfly mask laughed as she grabbed her companion by the front of his suit and pulled him close. He was wearing a mask shaped like flames the color of bluebells. “You made me spill my drink. Be a good boy and fetch me another?”

“I think you've had enough, my pet,” he said in a deep voice. She laughed silkily, looping her arm around his neck.

“I'll tell you when I've had enough,” she purred and kissed him, dropping her champagne flute on the floor with a tinkle of broken glass. Azula felt heat rising to her face, and she immediately whipped around and marched in the opposite direction, just to get away from the passionately embracing couple.

She could feel sweat pouring down her back. It was hot in the ballroomeven with the massive double doors to the garden open, letting in the cold winter air. Her hands were still shaking, her mouth dry, her stomach fluttering with nerves.

What was wrong with her? She needed to focus. She needed to find Kato Sanyi, the man Rian had sent her to kill. Them. He had sent them to kill.

But she had left Sokka in the hotel room, unconscious on the floor. He would hate her when he awoke to find her gone. He would know what she had done, which was the only thing she could do.

She couldn't let him do this. Killing someone, someone innocent... It did things to a person. It had destroyed her. She wouldn't allow Sokka to become like her. Tainted. Dirty. Guilt and regret in every breath, pain in her lungs. Drowning in the ghosts of the people that had fallen before her.

 _Not Sokka_ , she thought as pain shot through her. _Never Sokka._

She would save him from that if she could. If she did nothing else in her life, at least she could do this. No matter what this changed between them.

She just needed to focus.

According to Rian, Kato was a wealthy merchant, about forty years old. He would be wearing the mask of a white rabbiroo. She had asked how Rian had known that, but he'd just snorted in amusement and said, “He wears it to every mask and festival. He's well-known for it. Trust me, he'll be wearing it.”

A white rabbiroo. All she needed to find was the man in the white rabbiroo mask and then...and then what? She hadn't planned that far ahead.

Focus. She needed to focus, plan, get the job done.

Instead, she found herself staring into the crowd, which was a blur of color, noise, and smells. Her head was spinning. She could feel the first stirrings of panic seizing her as the sensations overwhelmed her senses, sending her reeling backward, straight into a solid wall of muscle.

Hands came down on her shoulders. She fought back a scream as she whipped around to face the man at her back. He loomed over her, hugely muscled, wearing a black, sleeveless tunic that showed off his rippling biceps. He had on a feathered phoenix mask that exposed his lips and chin, the red and orange plumage cascading down his broad shoulders.

His mouth was cruel, curling at the corners as the jewel-bright eyes peered at her from the eye holes of the beaked mask. At seeing her alarm, he stepped forward and took her hand.

“My apologies, my lady, I didn't mean to startle you,” he said softly, bending to kiss the back of her hand. Her skin crawled and it was all she could do not to snatch her arm back. She couldn't panic. Not here. Not now. “I don't believe we've had the pleasure.”

“The pleasure's all mine,” Azula lied lightly, her back teeth clenching when he didn't let go of her hand. She wanted to kick flames at him, but that was the kind of thing that would draw attention to herself. Which made her a bad assassin, she was sure. Instead, she endured his proprietary seizure of her hand, seeing the smile on his lips as his gaze flicked down her body and back to her masked face.

“I'm sure the pleasure will be all mine,” he said smoothly. “Would you care to dance?”

“No, I--”

But he ignored her, putting one hand on the small of her back and leading her into the crowd of dancers. Her body was stiff, her steps unyielding, but he either ignored her reluctance or was too strong to feel her heels digging into the marble floor. She could break away from him, and she knew it. She could break his arm in three places, dislocate all of his grasping fingers and burn those shrewd eyes right out of his mask.

But that would be considered rude. And it would definitely blow her cover.

When he jerked her around, pulling her up against his body, she nearly broke loose a scream. Instead she stumbled, her hands flat on his chest as he wrapped one arm around her and pulled her upright. There was a sharp smile on his mouth again, so cruel, so knowing.

Shivers ran up her sweaty back, anger filling her as the panic in her stomach grew into a throbbing ache.

He started moving her, swaying from side to side as the music swelled around them. She glanced around as they swayed, trying to spot her target. Trying to look for an exit. A crowbar to pry him off of her. Perhaps a glass of something cold and dizzying to soothe the shake out of her limbs.

“You seem nervous,” the phoenix rumbled. “I'm not going to hurt you. Unless you want me to.”

“I don't particularly get the feeling you care what I want or don't want,” she snapped before she could stop herself.

That cruel mouth curled up at the corners again. “Well, I'm used to getting my way.”

“Great. A spoiled little rich boy,” she said as he laughed. “You've probably never heard the word no in your life.”

“Not often,” he admitted conspiratorially. “When you're as rich as I am, the yes's just flow like wine.”

She rolled her eyes beneath the mask. “You think you're pretty smooth, don't you?”

“Usually, but you seem to be resisting my charms. It's...intriguing. Is this your first time to the estate?”

“Yes,” she said after considering her answer for a moment.

“And how are you liking it?”

“The place is as tacky as Lady Shura is. She should fire her decorator. Maybe behead them,” she drawled before she could stop herself. “This place is the exact reason some people shouldn't have money.”

The phoenix pursed his lips and looked around the huge room. “Well, Mother certainly has her own style, but most of this belonged to my father. He was rather... _flamboyant_ in his tastes. _All_ of his tastes,” he said, with a bitter sneer as he said the last part.

Azula's eyebrows climbed her forehead as she glanced around the room. She had heard of Lady Shura's husband. Both he and his lover had been found in a bath tub together, drowned under mysterious circumstances. Shura had played the grieving widow, finding solace in one bed after another.

Her husband had been the rich one, owning some kind of ruby mine or something, Azula couldn't remember. Shura had been burning through his fortune ever since. Well, Shura and her sons, Li-Shang, Fang, Quang and Kang, the eldest. Four strapping young men with too much money, not enough brains, and a penchant for trouble that had landed each of them in prison on more than one occasion.

Rumors had followed a couple of her boys throughout the years. Talk of assaults on women. There was even a rumor that one of them, Li-Shang, was a murderer. Rumors being what they were, Azula had always found that hard to believe, but now...staring up at one of Shura's sons, with his cruel mouth and his grabby hands...

Well, there was always a kernel of truth in every rumor, wasn't there?

“You're one of Shura's sons, huh? Which one?”

His eyes flashed. “Oh, now that would be telling. Tell me, mysterious woman of my dreams, who are _you_ beneath that bewitching mask?”

“No one. I'm just the niece of a merchant,” she lied smoothly, ducking her head. “Perhaps you know him? His name is Kato Sanyi?”

“That scroungy old rabbiroo? We've met,” Shura's son said with amusement in his voice. “I didn't know the old crook had a niece. He's been holding out on me.”

“Yes, well...we got separated when we came in. Have you seen him? I--”

“His loss is my gain, it seems.”

“I really should find him, he'll worry. This is my first time in the Fire Nation,” Azula said hastily, making up the lie on the spot. “I'm visiting from the United Republic. I live in the Fire Nation colonies. I mean, the United Republic.”

His hand tightened on her back and he pulled her closer. “A little peasant girl from the Republic, be still my heart. The things I could teach you...” He bent over her, the smell of wine on his breath. “Would you care to see the rest of the house? I'd love to give you the private tour.”

An idea popped into her head. She needed to get a layout of the place anyway. She had planned on luring Kato away from the party somehow, and it would be better if she knew her way around first. “Well, I wouldn't mind a tour. I've never been in a house this large. Tacky as it is.”

His cruel mouth twisted into a salacious grin. He wrapped her arm around his and tugged her eagerly toward the door. “I promise, you'll get the _full_ tour. I think you'll find that the décor in my bedroom is quite tasteful. You'll be _very_ pleased.”

_Ugh._

Her skin crawled again, but she let him pull her out of the ball room and into the hallway.

_I can do this. I can do this. Just breathe. Don't panic. Don't scream. Don't set his stupid mask on fire. If he tries anything, I can stop him. I'll scream or I'll break his arm or I'll run._

She repeated all of that in her head a few times, as Shura's son pulled her into an empty hallway, that, true to form, was filled with more lewd paintings and tacky brickabrack.

“You know, you can take off the mask now,” he said softly, turning on her.

“I'd rather keep it on.”

But he moved in, faster than a man that large had any right to be, pushing her against the wall with the sheer, overwhelming presence of him. His hands flattened on either side of her head. She thought of Sokka for a moment, as panic flared in her, too volatile to be contained this time. She would scream, she knew it. She could feel it tearing up her throat as other images flashed in her mind. Terrible images.

“I already know exactly who you are. _Princess Azula_ ,” Shura's son said, and then he slammed his mouth onto hers. She screamed in her throat, her hands lifting to push him off, to set fire to his feathered mask, to do _something_ , but the man was violently ripped away from her a moment later.

An angry snarl filled the air, followed by a flurry of movement and the sound of flesh on flesh. Then, seconds later, Shura's son hit the opposite wall and slid down it, bleeding, his mask lying a few feet away, the pointed beak smashed in.

And standing over him, panting in anger, his fists clenched, eyes blazing beneath his mask, was Sokka.

* * *

 

Blind rage filled Sokka's vision with red as he stood over the unconscious man slumped against the wall. Blood trickled down his scalp and from his broken nose. Sokka was almost sure that he'd punched him. Maybe he'd kicked him too. It was hard to say. He had snapped when he'd seen the man pin Azula to the wall and kiss her. Everything after that had been a blur.

“Sokka?”

He turned to face Azula, who looked pale beneath her dark mask, the first tinge of a panic attack in her eyes. He pushed back the anger in him and held up his hands.

“Are you okay?”

Azula wiped at her mouth with the back of her hand. “Are you real?”

He approached her slowly and gently took her hand in his, putting it over his heart. He watched as she visibly relaxed before him. “What's real, Azula?”

“You're real,” she said, letting out a breath.

“Are you okay?” he repeated gently.

“I think so. He said my name.”

“What?”

“He called me by my name. He knows who I am, Sokka.”

“Tazeo,” he hissed, glancing around the hallway, but they were alone, save their unconscious friend. Sokka felt like kicking the man in the face again, the image of him pinning Azula to the wall frying through his brain like molten lava.

“What? Oh!” she said, looking dazed, her eyes popping. She shook her head, as if to clear it, and then stared at him guiltily. “What are you doing here?”

“I think you mean why aren't I as unconscious as _this_ motherfucker?” Sokka said, jabbing his hand at the bleeding man. “I—Damn, we can't discuss this here, come on.”

He snatched her hand up and tugged her down the hallway and then into the first room he could find. He slammed the door shut behind them while she hastily lit a sconce on the wall with her Firebending.

“Sok—Tazeo, I--” she started, but he cut her off, crossing his arms over his chest.

“You knocked me out,” he said accusingly. He had woken up in the dark hotel room, a knot on his head and dread in his guts. He had known immediately what she had done, what she was going to try to do.

He'd stopped only long enough to throw on his suit and mask, practically running to Shura's massive estate, just in time to slip inside with a group of already-drunken revelers who hadn't noticed him walking with them. He hadn't been accosted at the door for not having an invitation, since Azula had taken theirs with her.

He had arrived just time to spot Azula in the crowd, dancing—or rather, being held captive—by the man in the phoenix mask. They had left the ballroom before he could approach them, and he had followed.

“I had to, you were so determined,” she snapped at him. “As if I can't handle myself!”

He gestured to the door with a wild fling of his hand. “He had his hands all over you, Azula!”

She bristled before him. “And that's the real problem, isn't it? You're jealous!”

It was like someone stabbed him in the face with a red hot poker. His mouth clamped closed and he backed up a step. “What? Jealous? I'm not... That's... Why would I be _jealous?_ ”

“If you don't know the answer to that, then you're dumber than you look,” she said acidly.

“He put his hands on you,” he repeated stubbornly.

“I was about to push him off of me. I had a plan and you ruined it.”

“To get pawed by some stranger? Hell of a plan.”

She made an exasperated noise and stamped her heel on her carpet. “No, he was showing me around. That was one of Lady Shura's sons. I'm not sure which. She has four of them and they're all as big as air bison and just as stupid. He offered to give me a tour and I thought if I looked around I could find a place I could lure Kato Sanyi to, to... To...” She took a deep breath, swallowed, and then finished in a rush, “Do the deed.”

“And just how were you planning on killing him? Knife in the back? Strangle him? Set him on fire?” Sokka said mildly as she shifted in place. “And what was your escape plan?”

She twisted her red lips together. “I know what I'm doing, _Tazeo_. Stop treating me like some slack-jawed bedlam patient. I'm not your burden, I'm supposed to be your partner. You need to trust me to do this.”

“I do trust you, Azula and I _don't_ think of you that way,” he said, pushing his anger back as he sighed. “I thought we were partners too, but then you knocked me out like that. Like I need more blows to the head!”

“I did it to save you. I _know_ you,” she said, stepping up to him. She touched his chest, right over his heart. “If you do this, it will never leave you. This is murder and there's no going back from that. Trust me, I know. I don't want this for you. You deserve better. I don't want your dreams to become my nightmares.”

“And I can't let you take this on, Azula. You've been through so much, this could be the thing that breaks you.”

The look on her face was sad as she shook her head. “I'm already broken, Sokka. You can't fix me. Nothing can. Let me do this,” she said, her voice breaking.

Sokka cupped her face, tilting her face up to his. “You're not broken, Azula. A little dented, sure. A couple of bruises, but nothing that can't heal, if you let it. I'm never going to give up on you.”

“You will,” she said, closing her eyes. “The minute we save Zuko and stop the Smoke Demons, you'll be gone for good and you won't look back. Don't deny it.”

He stared at her for a long moment. “Do you really think I'd do that to you?”

Confusion crossed her face. “That's what everyone does. They leave me.”

“Not me,” he vowed and bent, sliding a kiss across her lips before she could reply. She didn't seem startled, just leaned into the heat of his mouth as he gently pressed his lips against hers for one long, earth-shattering moment.

She let out a trembling breath when he pulled back. Her hand fisted up in his shirt for a moment, and then relaxed.

“You have a girlfriend, you shouldn't be kissing me.”

“No, I shouldn't,” he agreed grimly, leaning his forehead against hers. “I've never been unfaithful before.”

“Does kissing count?”

“Yeah,” he sighed. “Yeah, it counts.”

“How does it feel in here?” she said, touching his chest again.

“Terrible,” he admitted. “I know I shouldn't do it, but I still want to kiss you. _Spirits_ , do you I want to kiss you, Azula.”

“If you didn't feel terrible about it, I wouldn't like you so much,” she said softly. “I told you, you're a regrettably good person.”

“I'm not _that_ good,” he said roughly, his blood thundering in his veins as impulse took over and he claimed her lips again.

 


	24. Twenty-Three

Azula moaned into the heat of his mouth, her hands sliding around his shoulders as he pulled her flush against his body. She kissed him hard, untamed, untempered, a hunger in her that echoed through his body, igniting his already smoldering blood.

He pushed his hands through her hair, his tongue dipping and plunging against hers as he slid her mask off of her face and dropped it on the floor at their feet. She melted into his touch as she ripped his mask off too and tossed it aside. Her nails dragged along the back of his neck, demanding more, as if she were starving for him, for his touch.

She tasted like sweet cherries, tart and biting as her tongue rolled against his, her lips as soft as peach flesh. He devoured her, desperate to slake the hunger that hadn't left him for weeks. For months.

It wasn't convenience, proximity, loneliness, or any of the stupid justifications he had tried to run through his head. It wasn't the situation, or logic. It was chemistry. Blood and brains and hearts screaming for each other. Raw desire that went down to the bone like a blood infection. He could feel it creeping through his veins, taking him over. The need for her.

So damned deep he would never fully unearth it.

He would be eighty, with a bent back and no teeth in his head and he would still want the woman in his arms and he knew it. No matter what else happened, he would never be free of the desire for her.

He didn't want to stop kissing her. He didn't want to stop touching her. He wanted to feel her skin against his, to hold her like glass until she shattered, drag his mouth along her scarred flesh. Every single cut, every mark, until the hurt and pain and bad memories seeped out of her like poison. Until he brought her over the edge into ecstasy, again and again, just to see the joy in her eyes...

It was Azula who pulled back first, shaking like a leaf, her eyes huge in the light from the sconce on the wall. She was panting, and so was he. They stared at one other for a long moment. Then she bit down on her lower lip, put her hand on his chest, and pushed him back a step.

“We have to stop.”

He deflated like a popped balloon. His voice came out as a rusty creak, breaking. “I know.”

All of the reasons why they couldn't, why they shouldn't, why it was impossible anyway, seemed to fill the room, falling between them like a cold sheet of ice water. He backed up a step and then turned away from her, trying to will his body to stop begging him to gather her up in his arms again.

He scrubbed his hands down his face as Azula picked up her mask with shaking hands. The mask reminded him of why they were even there in the first place, and that too, was another shock of ice cold water straight to his heated heart.

“We still have a job to do.”

“Made all the more difficult by the fact that you just knocked out our host's son in the hallway,” she said lightly.

He turned on her, brow furrowed. “You said he knew who you were?”

“Yes. He said my name in the hallway, right before he kissed me and you attacked him. How did he know it was me?”

Sokka thought a moment and then shrugged. “I don't know. Did you know Shura's sons back in the day?”

“Not really. They're older than me and even in my father's time they weren't particularly welcome at the palace. They have rough reputations. The kind that polite society doesn't tolerate. Shura is rich enough to get away with just about anything, but her sons are another matter.”

“Why doesn't that surprise me? I should have broken his fucking neck,” Sokka ground out, rubbing his hand over his beard thoughtfully. “Maybe he just recognized your voice or something?”

“I don't--” Azula started, but then a screaming laugh burst through the air, shrill and biting, followed by the distant sounds of an alarmed crowd. The sounds rose in pitch and urgency, fear and panic rising as the music from the ballroom sputtered out.

Sokka and Azula met gazes for a moment and then, as one, they scrambled out the door and into the hallway, where Shura's son was still slumped, unconscious. They skated past him, jogging down the hallway toward the source of the screaming. The closer they got to the ballroom, the louder the disturbance became.

They were half-way there when they smelled the smoke, and soon it was billowing down the hallway in a thick gray fog. They coughed, putting their sleeves over their mouths. When they spilled into the ballroom, they both skidded to a stop on the marble floor, taking in the chaos before them with wide-eyed horror.

The gigantic gold drapes hanging on the massive windows were all ablaze, the fire licking upward, eating at the heavy velvet like a hungry beast. Smoke was thick in the air, the smell of burning things choking them. The big doors to the garden were open, but there was a scrum of people trying to get out of them, pushing and screaming, knocking each other back in their panic to get out of the burning house.

There was food everywhere. Someone had upturned a table. The walls were blackening as the flames licked the wood, bubbling the paint, catching on tapestries and paintings. Little embers rained down, catching on the rugs, the tablecloths, the clothing of the people still trying to get out.

Sokka took the scene in with a feeling of disbelief. How had this happened? He watched in horror as a woman was knocked down. Several people trampled on her as they pushed and shoved toward the exits.

“Azula! Can you put out that fire?” Sokka called, starting toward the woman, who lay on the ground screaming, her hands protecting her head. Wading into the crowd, he pushed and shoved, throwing elbows until he reached her. Grasping her arm, he pulled her to her feet and turned back to see Azula standing in the middle of the room.

She was as white as a sheet, shaking, her eyes fixed on the flames. She didn't move an inch.

“Shit,” he snarled, and then grasped the nearest person, ripping their mask off. “Are you a Firebender?”

“No! Let go!” the woman said, pushing Sokka back and then attempting to squeeze through the crowd to get to the doors. Sokka turned on another masked reveler, hauling them toward him.

“Are you a Firebender?”

“I—Yes! What do you want?”

“Come on!” Sokka said, dragging the man out of the crush at the door. He stumbled on his own two feet, trying to dig his heels in.

“What are you doing?”

“You're a fucking Firebender! Put out the fire!” Sokka said, shoving him forward as the smoke seared his lungs. It was getting hard to breathe. The sound of the flames licking at the intricately painted ceiling was like the distant roar of a waterfall. Hungry. Devouring all.

The Firebender's hands were shaking as he lifted them, dropping into a form and then circling his arms. He gathered the flames eating away at the nearest curtain, dissipating them. Then he turned to another curtain and did the same thing, but Sokka saw immediately that it would not be enough.

The fire was spreading too rapidly, fueled by the wooden walls. Bits of burning material alighted on every surface, setting new fires across the room. The scrum at the door was easing. Several people were injured, lying on the ground. One man was bleeding from the head.

The Firebender turned to him, backing toward the door, coughing on smoke. “It's spreading too quickly! There's nothing I can do!”

Sokka cursed and reached for Azula, who was still staring at the fire burning around them. Like she was seeing nothing. And everything at once.

“Azula? AZULA!” Sokka growled, gripping her shoulders and shaking her. He coughed, grabbing hold of her as she tried to shake him off. “AZULA! It's me! We need to get out of here!”

“Burning, burning...they're all burning... The whole damned forest is burning...” Azula mumbled as burning bits of plaster rained down on them.

Sokka grabbed her face, desperate to find sense in her wild eyes. “Azula? Please... We have to leave...”

“My son! Where is my son?” a woman screamed from the crowd in the gardens. She came running back inside and looked around the burning room with a desperate cry, one hand over her mouth. “Kang! KANG! HELP ME! MY SON! WHERE IS HE?”

“Shura, you have to get out of here!” someone said, grasping the woman's bejeweled wrist and tugging her toward the door, but the woman balked, attempting to wrestle her way free to get to her son.

“KANG! KANG!”

Sokka started, glancing back at the smoky hallway, where they had left one of Lady Shura's sons unconscious.

“Fuck my life,” Sokka snarled as a blackened chunk of plaster fell at the woman's feet, and she screamed, backing toward the garden again. Someone came and grabbed the woman, hauling her back out of the building, screaming, reaching for her lost son.

Sokka turned back to Azula, but she was still gone, lost in memories or nightmares, it didn't matter. He scooped her up over his shoulder, carrying her out into the garden, gagging on smoke the whole way. He pushed his way through the crowd in the snowy garden, ignoring the cries and screams as he elbowed people aside.

He set Azula down near some hedges, a safe distance from the flames and smoke.

“Stay right here, my Princess. I'll come back for you,” he said grimly, though he didn't know if she heard him or not. She was shaking like a leaf as he pressed a kiss to her lips. Then he was off, sprinting back into the flames, his arm over his mouth.

He had just entered the ballroom when the ceiling gave with a fiery crash.

* * *

 

Fire. Everywhere. Scorching. The green trees igniting like matchsticks. The grass burning in hot waves. Ashes thick on the air, settling on her skin like snowflakes. The cheery paint on the outsides of the wagons bubbling up as the flames sprung up to devour them. The pack animals screaming in terror as they pulled at their tethered harnesses, trying to escape the fires coming for them, but there was no escape. There was no mercy or kindness in the forest that day.

She could hear the screams of the people as they tried to run from the flames, which chased them down like a ravenous beast, melting them where they stood, turning them to ash and dust and bones. And the cries. The cries. The cries that haunted her dreams every night, that chased her into the darkest places of the earth...

“HELP! HELP ME, PLEASE! PLEASE, MY SON!”

It was the trader, the instrument seller who had been so kind to her. Whom she had repaid with pain and death and the agony of watching the only thing she loved be taken by the flames that revenge had called down on the forest that day.

Except the woman's voice sounded different. Shriller, the panic in it closer, more real. There were other voices too, more screams of terror. The smell of smoke was in the air. Someone touched her, a foreign hand on her shoulder.

She reeled back, smacking their hand away and blinking back tears brought on by smoke. Or she thought it had been smoke. The night focused around her with a blaze of light and sound and she found herself staring at the facade of Lady Shura's sprawling mansion. The roof was on fire, great gouts of flame licking at the night sky before them, a haze of smoke coiling into the air and smudging the face of the crescent moon.

“THE ROOF WENT! THERE ARE PEOPLE TRAPPED IN THERE! WE NEED FIREBENDERS! NOW!”

Azula looked around the garden, confused as she tried to find Sokka. How had she gotten out here? What had happened? Where had he gone? She touched her temple, the cloud on mind as thick as smoke. Where had she gone?

“MY SON, PLEASE!”

She hitched in a breath and found the source of the shrill screaming at once. It was Lady Shura, who was clawing at the person holding her back. Azula would have recognized her anywhere; she was covered in jewelry, her mask long gone, her dress shockingly low cut for a woman in her fifties. Her makeup was smearing in black streaks as tears fell fast and thick from her eyes.

Something tugged at Azula's sluggish mind. Shura's son. Sokka.

_SOKKA._

“NO!” Azula screamed, shoving people aside as she sprinted for the doors, her heart in her throat. There were a dozen Firebenders there, fighting the flames, attempting to put out the blaze together. Azula could see burning debris on the floor of the ballroom, blocking the doors. The intense heat repelled her, and she lifted a hand against the bright glare, coughing on the smoke.

She dropped into a form, reaching for the untamed flames before her, bending them to her will. Forcing it back. Sweat dripped down her back, fear riding hard in her belly as she worked, clearing a path. Other Firebenders joined her, and together they slowly pushed their way inside the building.

He had to be here. He had to be. She refused to allow herself to think anything else. Refused to believe that he had run back into the flames. That, even now, Sokka was lying beneath the debris, hurt, injured, burned...dead...

If she let herself believe it, even for a moment, the entire world would crumble before her. Nothing but ash and a darkness that she would never wake from. She couldn't lose him. She couldn't.

Not when she'd just found him.

“Someone help me!”

Azula turned on the familiar sound, her heart in her throat. A cry left her lips as she spotted Sokka limping out of the flames and smoke with Shura's son over his shoulder. Sokka's face was soot-blackened, one sleeve ripped away to reveal his dark tattoos. His teeth were gritted as he lurched forward under the weight of the much larger man slung over his shoulders.

His knees collapsed when he saw her sprinting toward him and the two men tumbled to the scorched floor of the ballroom together. Azula hit her knees before him as other people came running at them.

“Sokka!” she said, her arms around him tightly. “I was so scared!”

“I'm fine, my Princess,” he said, wrapping his arms around her as two men lifted Shura's son and carried him outside. “Had to play the hero, you know.”

“Don't ever do that again!”

“Run into a burning building? Yeah, I'm definitely never doing that again,” Sokka said into her hair, then coughed so hard she was sure he might get sick. She helped him outside, passing Lady Shura, who was bending over her son, sobbing into his chest. Shura looked up as they passed and Azula met her gaze for a long moment.

She didn't know why, but something in the woman's gaze made cold chills go up and down her spine. She was still wearing her mask, but she thought for a moment that Shura recognized her.

But then the moment passed and Shura looked away, leaving Azula and Sokka to watch the fire slowly die. It was a little past midnight by the time the fire was contained. The majority of the mansion had been spared. The fire hadn't spread beyond the ballroom, which was now a smoldering, smoking ruin.

“How did it start?” Sokka asked someone, grasping their arm as they walked past.

The man shook his head. “You didn't see him? There was a Firebender in the middle of the room. He had a black flame mask on and he was laughing his head off. It caught everyone's attention. And then he just set fire to the curtains.”

“Did anyone catch him?”

“I don't think so. He ran off, I think... It was chaos once the curtains went up,” the man said, coughing as Sokka let go of his arm. Azula met his gaze. She knew exactly what he was thinking.

The Fire Bug.

Sokka's jaw clenched, white streaks in his cheeks. “I'm going to kill that fucking bastard.”

“Speaking of which... We lost our white rabbiroo,” she said in an undertone, glancing around at what remained of the milling guests.

Sokka started and then cursed. “He's gone. We've failed.”

“If we just explain it--” she started, but the look her gave her was dark.

“They won't care about the Fire Bug. We should have used the fire as a distraction to get the job done. It's my fault, I--” he started, but she put her hand over his heart, stepping close.

“It wasn't your mission,” she said softly. “I'm the one that failed. I went away, didn't I? I got lost and you pulled me out of there. I'll tell them that, I'll--”

Sokka's eyes were huge in the darkness as he pressed his forehead against hers. “I'm not going to let them hurt you, my Princess. I promise.”

“You can't promise that.”

“Yes, I can,” he said and smiled a little. “Come on. There's nothing else we can do here.”

They walked back to the hotel in silence, his hand in hers. When they got back, he insisted on drawing her a bath so that she could scrub off the soot. While he was in the bathroom, she undressed, slinging on the singed green robe. Her hands trembled as she closed her eyes, memories swelling over her.

“Why do you wear that?” Sokka asked from the doorway to the bathing room. “It looks like it's going to fall apart.”

She stared down at the robe for a moment and then cleared her smoke-roughened throat. “Because I don't want to forget.”

Sadness touched Sokka's face. “Forget what?”

“That I can't be trusted not to hurt someone who is kind to me,” she said as Sokka started forward, his emotions plain on his face.

“You haven't hurt me yet.”

“I knocked you out tonight,” she pointed out as he grinned.

“And don't think I'm not still mad about that.”

She blew out a breath. “It was pointless anyway. Kato Sanyi got away. We were supposed to kill him at the party. The Smoke Demons will not let us get away with failure. You've heard the speeches... What are we going to do?”

“I don't know,” Sokka shrugged. “We'll worry about it in the morning, okay? I've drawn you a nice hot bubble bath.”

“You could join me...”

Sokka kissed her forehead. “Don't tempt me. There are a lot of reasons why I can't, and too damned many reasons why I want to more than anything. We're going to have to have a talk about... _things_... But not tonight. I'm exhausted. Enjoy your bath, my Princess.”

And he sank down onto the end of the bed, his head hung. He looked weighed down, as weighed down as she felt as she went into the bathing room and closed the door. The bubble bath was warm, but it didn't relax her an inch.

All she could think about was the fire, and what the Smoke Demons might do to them for failing to kill Kato Sanyi. When she finally left the bathing room, clean but anxious, she unexpectedly found herself facing an empty hotel room.

Sokka was gone.

* * *

 

Kato Sanyi bypassed his storefront, where the windows were filled with assorted antiques for sale, and went up the stairs that led to his second floor apartment. Coming inside, he kicked off his shoes, and then went into his bedroom. He shoved his smoke-stained mask onto his dresser, shaking his head as he recalled the image of the laughing Firebender and the flames catching on the curtains around them. He had been lucky to get out of there alive.

He had been even luckier to snatch up one of the many gold vases that he'd been eying the whole night. He had slipped it into his coat, running out the doors and straight to his waiting carriage. He had never been one to pass up a good opportunity.

He pulled out the vase and set it on his dresser beside his mask.There were dragons etched into the gold surface, red rubies as large as his fist set into the eyes. Smaller rubies, topazes and yellow diamonds made glittering flames that poured from the dragon's mouths.

It had to be worth a million yuans, at least. He could pay off his debts with that, and more—it might, if he bargained right, save his life. Lady Shura would never miss it. He was sure of it. He was also sure that no one had seen him take the vase. Whomever that Firebender was, he wanted to personally shake the man's hand.

He wondered if Shura's home had completely gone up in flames. Perhaps he should have taken more than a small vase? Her home was filled with all kinds of treasures, enough to keep him in business for years, if he fenced it right.

Lucky for him, he knew all the best fences in the Fire Nation. They knew not to cheat him; he had made examples of those who had in the past.

Whistling happily to himself, he got ready for bed with a light heart, making plans for what he would do with the money.

The first thing he would do would be to pay off the Smoke Demons. He should never have gotten mixed up with them, but the money they had offered had been too good to pass up, and it wasn't like he had done anything too illegal. He'd gotten some war balloons for them, an easy enough purchase if you knew whom to buy from, but he'd cut corners to save himself some money. The boilers had been faulty and the damned things had blown up.

And the Smoke Demons had blamed him.

Now they expected him to deliver four more war balloons, out of pocket. They had tried to say that he was cheating them. That failure to supply more airships would result in his death. He didn't know if he believed that, but at least he could afford to buy the damned airships now. Just in case.

Settling down in bed, he easily drifted off into a carefree sleep, in which he dreamed that he was sitting on a beach, a beautiful woman on either arm, while the world went up in flames around him and he laughed, reaching into the flames to pull out one gold coin after another...

Pain shocked Kato Sanyi awake. Gasping, he found himself staring at a masked figure, who was crouched over him on the bed. He opened his mouth, to scream, to understand, to question, but all that came out was a rattling sound as the intruder put pressure on the knife being held to his throat.

“I'm sorry. This isn't personal,” the intruder said. The next moment, the intruder—no, _assassin_ he realized, far too late—drew the knife across his jugular as easily as a knife might cut through butter.

Kato Sanyi choked to the death on his own blood as the assassin stepped back, calmly wiping the knife on the blankets.

“I had to do it. For her.”

 


	25. Twenty-Four

**Chapter Twenty-Four:**

 

Sokka stared at the storefront, his hands fingering the knife tucked into the small of his back. The store was dark, and so were the windows of the second floor apartment. He steeled himself, pushing back the bile that surged in his throat.

He had to do this. For Azula.

The street was empty, the town as desolate as a desert as he climbed up the fire escape on the side of the building. He hesitated at the window, realizing that it was wide open, a cold breeze billowing the curtains.

Something about that open window made his veins run cold. He ducked into the window, dropping soundlessly onto the floor in a crouch. The inside of the room was as still as a tomb. He could make out the shape of a bed. And a body lying beneath the covers.

He listened, crouched there by the window, for the sound of breathing, but all he could hear was the flutter of the curtains, the distant sound of a cat in a trash can, his own breathing, and the blood thundering in his ears.

There was something else, as well. There was a coppery smell on the air. The smell of blood. The stench of death.

Cold sweat ran down his back as he slowly, cautiously, crept over to the bed.

Moonlight fell across Kato Sanyi's surprised face, his eyes just beginning to cloud. Blood speckled his cheeks in dark splashes. His throat was a ruin of tissue. Blood drenched the sheets, the walls, the floor, the ceiling.

Kato Sanyi was dead. Sokka's mind reeled as he pulled off one of his gloves. He touched the blood-drenched sheets. The blood was still warm to the touch. He hadn't been dead long.

“Fuck,” Sokka ground out, slipping backward, breathing hard as adrenaline pumped through him. He slipped back out of the window and threw himself down the fire escape. He hit the ground running, turning back in the direction of the hotel.

He had to get to Azula.

Before the Smoke Demons got to her first.

* * *

 

Azula paced the room, her hands clenched together, palms sweaty. She glanced at the door to the hotel room every few paces, but the blank wood mocked her and it remained closed. Her stomach turned over again, fear sliding up her spine and nesting in a knot of tension on the back of her neck. Rolling her shoulders, she tried to justify Sokka's absence.

Maybe he was getting something to eat. Maybe he was getting more towels. Maybe he had left, gone back to Republic City, his life, his family and friends, his girlfriend. Maybe he had been kidnapped by Rian and was being tortured to death.

Each one brought her more and more anxiety as she paced the room. She could feel a tremble in her limbs, quaking up from her toes. Whispers started in her ears and she clapped her hands over them to tune it out.

“Stop...stop...stop...” she ground out, squeezing her eyes shut tightly against the discordant voices. She needed something to focus on. Pain.

Pain. She needed pain, something she could control...

But she had promised Sokka that she would stop harming herself, that she would find another way. Except there was no other way, not with Sokka so inexplicably gone. A void was opening in her, deep and bottomless. She wanted to tumble into it, to lose herself as she had back at the masquerade, but she couldn't.

Because she knew. For all her scenarios, she knew exactly what Sokka was doing, why he had gone. A sob left her and she dug her fingernails into her cheeks, pain piercing her, flooding her with relief just as the door opened, spilling Sokka into the room.

Azula launched herself across the space between them and he gathered her up in his arms, tucking his face against her neck and squeezing her so tightly in his arms that her still healing ribs ached. She held on just as tightly, however, her arms wrapping around his neck as he picked her up off of her feet.

“You're okay,” he said roughly, the relief in his voice shooting warnings through her insides.

“Of course I'm okay, what about you? Where were you?” she said as Sokka's arms tightened even more. When he released her, he pulled back, his hands on her shoulders. The look in his eyes was grave and she noticed the pinch at the corners of his mouth.

“I went to kill Kato Sanyi,” he said roughly and then shook his head, loosening his hair into his eyes.

“I didn't want that for you, Sokka,” she said as he gripped her shoulders. “I tried to stop you, dammit and you still--”

“It doesn't matter, Azula.”

“You had to kill--”

“But I _didn't._ He was already dead when I got there,” he said roughly and let go of her. He looked exhausted as he ran his hand down his face. She stared at him in disbelief.

“He was already dead?”

“Yeah. Pretty freshly dead, actually,” he said with a tightness in his voice that set off more alarms in her mind. “The assassin used a knife to slit his throat.”

“Rian?”

“I don't know,” he said, shaking his head again. “I was afraid that when I got back here you'd be... That the Smoke Demons would have attacked you or something. I don't know what I would have done if...” He let out a tremulous breath and looked into her eyes.

She felt her heart squeeze in her chest as Sokka reached for her.

“I'm okay,” she said as she tucked her face against his hard chest again. His big arms wrapped around her once more and she felt the heat of his breath on her neck. He was shaking all over and she realized how terrified he was. That he really had thought he might come back to find her dead. That he cared.

“I'm afraid of what this could mean. I think they were sending us a message.”

“What kind of message?”

“We failed to kill Kato Sanyi the way they wanted, at Shura's party. Who knows why they wanted him killed there, but they did. We failed, so they killed him to let us know that they know we failed,” he said grimly. “They were watching us at the party, I think. They were waiting for this to happen.”

Her brow lifted at that and she pulled away a little, catching the look of banked rage in his turbulent blue eyes.

“The Fire Bug... Do you think him showing up was intentional?”

“Who knows? Does it matter? We still failed, and they'll hurt you if they can because of that,” he said, cupping her face. “I won't let them harm you, Azula.”

She put her hand over his and leaned into his touch, a sad little half-smile on her lips. “It's not me I'm worried about, Sokka. It's _you_ they've been threatening this whole time.”

“What--” he started, but she stopped him with a look.

“Every death threat Rian has made has been directed at you, I think you were just so concerned with protecting me that you couldn't see it.”

“That's not true.”

Azula let out a shaking breath. “Don't you see, Sokka? They still need me. They think I want the throne, so they're promising that to me to get me to do whatever they want, which is kill Zuko. I can't do that if I'm dead.”

“But they're not going to put you on the throne, Azula. You know that.”

“They think I think that they will. I'm still Zuko's heir, so the throne would legally go to me if he died or abdicated, but the people of the Fire Nation wouldn't allow me to become the Fire Lord if they knew I was responsible for his death. For the same reason that my father had my mother poison Grandfather Azulon, instead of doing it himself. It would invalidate his claim to the throne if anyone suspected his hand in it.”

“So they'll kill you after you kill Zuko for them,” he said grimly.

“They might not even need to kill me if they can prove I killed Zuko. I'd be disinherited and imprisoned for life, probably in a cell right next to my father. I still serve a purpose to these people.”

“Yeah, but that's what I'm worried about. We don't think they intend to keep you on the throne, but what would killing you accomplish? Who would get the throne after you were killed or imprisoned?”

“Uncle Iroh,” she said softly. “He's the only other member of the immediate Royal family. After that, the laws of succession are complicated. We have some distantly related cousins that could possibly inherit it, but it might be easy to declare their claim illegitimate. The Fire Nation has some strict laws about succession and actual usurpers to the throne have no real chance of keeping power, unless they take over the military as well.”

She paled a little as Sokka stiffened.

“Which is what the Smoke Demons have been trying to do. You know Mai suspects that they have operatives in the military.”

“So they have me kill Zuko, declare my claim illegitimate and kill me or imprison me for my crimes to get me out of the way. Then Iroh inherits. He's old. They either kill him too, or they see his age as a weakness they can exploit and take over with a military coup. The Smoke Demons then have no one stop them from taking control of the throne and the Fire Nation.”

“That's assuming they plan to kill you. They could always marry you off to whomever they wanted. Once you have an heir, they can knock you off after that. Your child will be raised by the Smoke Demons. A puppet Fire Lord.”

She felt her stomach sink to her toes and she licked her lips. “Well, they'll be pretty disappointed if that's their plan.”

“Why?” Sokka said, searching her face, brow furrowed. She turned away and tucked a stray strand of her hair behind her ear.

“I can't have children, Sokka,” she said, and was surprised by the fact that her voice didn't waver. She felt nothing. She never really had. There was only a strange sense of relief.

“How do you know that?” he asked after a long silence, in which she could hear her own heartbeat. She shrugged and turned back around to face him.

“A few years ago, I had...umm... I got pregnant and I had it...” she swallowed and glanced at him. This was too close. Too close to thing she never wanted to say out loud, because that made it real. “I had it taken care of. It went wrong, though. I got very sick afterwards. A doctor in Ba Sing Se told me that I probably wouldn't be able to have children because of the infection.”

Sokka's eyes widened. He swallowed, the apple of his throat bobbing. “I... I didn't know. I'm so sorry.”

“I'm not,” she said shortly and found that she meant it. “It's the only piece of mercy the universe has ever given me. I never wanted children, Sokka. Do you honestly think I'd make a good mother?”

Sokka reached out and touched her face, his thumb sliding along the half-moons her nails had made in her cheeks. “I don't know. For what's it's worth, I'm still sorry. For all of it. The father--”

She whipped away from him, feeling cold tremors sink through her chest. She could hear her pulse in her ears. “I don't want to talk about that and I think you know why.”

Sokka ran a hand down his face.

“Yeah. Yeah, I do. Maybe you need to talk about it?”

“There's nothing to talk about, Sokka. That's over and done with. I've moved on.”

“Is that why you still have nightmares every night?” he said quietly.

“Drop it, Sokka. Please.”

“Okay,” he said after a moment and then went and sat on the end of the bed. “Now's definitely not the time for that conversation anyway. We have a huge problem on our hands. The Smoke Demons are probably out to kill us.”

“You mean you. To them you're expendable. Whether you believe it or not, it's what Rian has been threatening this whole time. To kill _you_ if we fail.”

“That's not all he's been threatening, Azula,” Sokka said darkly. “I don't like the way Rian looks at you.”

“Jealousy does not become you, Sokka.”

“It's not jealousy,” he said softly. “Even if I had a right to feel that way, which I _don't_ , I'm pretty sure Rian the Terrorist wouldn't be much competition.”

She bit down on her lower lip. “I don't think you have much competition anywhere, Sokka.”

“Tell that to Suki,” Sokka said and immediately winced.

She made a noise in the back of her throat, feeling as if someone had splashed her with cold water, right in the face. “Somehow bringing up your girlfriend feels more awkward than discussing abortion, Rian's creepy obsession with me, and assassination attempts. Lovely.”

“It's an awkward situation.”

“Because you kissed me,” she said carefully, gauging his reaction. He didn't seem ashamed, just sad.

“Yeah.”

She pushed her hair behind her ears again. “Are you going to do it again?”

“I shouldn't.”

She crossed the room and sank down onto her knees before him. “But you want to.”

He reached out and grasped her shaky hand. “I'm not sure what I want, Azula. I shouldn't, because of Suki. Because I don't want to be That Guy who cheats on his girlfriend. I hate That Guy, I always have. And I hate how easily I could justify kissing you right now. But it's not just that, it's... It's you, Azula.”

“Because of... Of what I did?” she said, her voice raw again, but he shook his head.

“NO. No, it's not that. I told you, I don't care about that. Any of it. That's not why. It's more about... I don't know how to explain this. I'm not good at this shit.”

“If it helps, I like it when you kiss me, Sokka.”

“Yeah, I picked up on that a little,” he joked, but it fell flat. He cleared his throat, feeling heat climbing his face. “Look, we're clearly attracted to one another and that's... That's a problem, because the last thing you need is some horny asshole messing around with your head, jerking you left and right because he has no right to be kissing you. You deserve better than that.”

“Is this because of--?” She touched her temple with trembling fingers.

Sokka took a breath and looked away. “No. Yes. It's hard to explain.”

“You think because I'm sick, because of whatever's wrong with me, that I can't make decisions about who I want to kiss?”

His face went crimson as he clocked the sharp, insulted tone in her voice. “I... Well... No, that's not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean?”

“I only meant that I don't want to take advantage of you. And kissing you like that, that's Taking Advantage of You, because I have no right to do that. None. You deserve better than that. You deserve someone who can love you, Azula. Without reservation.”

“And you can't love me?” she asked breathlessly.

They stared at one another for a long moment, the tension in the room palpable. Finally, he found his voice, his hand drawing her hand flat against his heart and pressing it there. Azula's eyes bloomed with emotion.

“It's not that I can't, it's that I shouldn't...not in that way...” Sokka whispered and then looked stricken, as if he'd said far too much. There was a gigantic 'BUT' hovering in the air between them. She knew how he felt. Her whole body was on fire, something in her breaking open. “I have no right to say that to you, because--”

“Because of her.”

“I love her, Azula, I really do, but I keep forgetting that and that scares the shit out of me. The way I feel scares the shit out of me. _You_ scare the shit out of me.”

“You scare me too. I've never felt...” she started and then stopped, biting her inner cheek. She ran her hand down the back of her neck, her heart pounding hard in her chest. She bit down on her tongue, feeling a wellspring of emotions that wanted to come bubbling up out of her. Their passionate embrace at Shura's masquerade party seemed to sit between them like a burning ember.

Despite everything that had happened, she hadn't been able to get it off of her mind. She could still feel the heat of his lips against hers, the touch his hands as they smoothed down her back, and threaded into her hair. He had wanted her. If she hadn't stopped them...

But she had. For a good reason.

“This isn't the place for this conversation, Sokka,” she said, to give herself some time to think. He nodded.

“No, you're right. We need to leave. Find some place to hole up where they can't find us.”

“But where? They're probably watching us right now. If we try to leave, they'll probably attack us.”

“I won't let them hurt you,” Sokka said, a growl in his voice as he looked up and met her gaze. His eyes blazed, fierce and protective. “I'd die before I let Rian put his hands on you.”

She smiled sadly at him. “I believe you'd try.”

“And I believe you'd knock me out to stop me,” he said with a small smile that faded quickly. He reached out and cupped her face again. “I think a fight between me and Rian is pretty inevitable, though. That was a pretty clear message.”

“He does seem to hate you a lot. I think Rian thinks you're beneath me.”

“I'm pretty sure Rian's biggest problem is that _he_ wants to be beneath you.”

Azula rolled her eyes and made an exasperated sound. “Would you stop? Now is not the time for jokes and double entendres.”

“It's my defense mechanism. The more shit-my-pants-terrified I am, the more inappropriate my humor becomes,” he said, shrugging. “And I'm pretty fucking terrified right now. What are we going to do?”

“I don't know,” she said as she put her hands on his thighs. “We'll just have to make them understand that we didn't fail them on purpose. That we tried to kill Sanyi.”

“Did we really try all that hard, Azula? I should have done it. I should have--” he choked off, and she sat up on her knees, her arms sliding around his shoulders. She pulled him close, words of comfort crowding on her tongue.

“I'm glad you didn't,” said a voice from the window, making them start, pulling apart immediately. Sokka cursed and reached for a knife on his belt. Rian pulled his wide mouth into a grin, flipping a knife in his hand as he lounged on the windowsill. His dark eyes flashed. “What's wrong? You two look like you've seen a ghost.”

“Rian...” she started, but he lifted the knife to his lips in a shushing motion.

“Shhh, Princess...” Rian said with amusement lifting the corners of his lips. “This is between me and Tazeo.”

And he threw the knife in their direction.


	26. Twenty-Five

****Sokka grabbed Azula, rolling with her across the bed and over the other side. They crashed to the floor together, his body landing on top of hers protectively. His head snapped up, eying the knife buried in the white plaster wall above their heads.

“Stay down,” Sokka said as Rian laughed.

“You have fast reflexes, Tazeo.”

“You're faster,” Sokka said grimly, peaking over the edge of the bed. Rian was still lounging on the windowsill, one foot propped up. He didn't look angry. Just amused.

He hated the fucking look on his weasel face. It just made him angrier, that the little shit stain seemed to find the whole thing hilarious. Like Sokka wasn't a threat.

He was going to prove him wrong.

“Yes, I am faster,” Rian said, pulling out another wicked bladed knife. “In fact, I'm better than you in every way, Tazeo.”

“Whatever you gotta tell yourself. I'm not some helpless merchant asleep in bed, Rian. You're going to have to earn your kill this time,” Sokka said, his hand missing his boomerang all of a sudden. Why hadn't he brought it? He could have knocked the little fucker out of the window already.

“You think I came to kill you?”

“You threw a knife at my head. If you aren't planning to kill me then you really need to work on your fucking aim,” Sokka grunted, glancing down at Azula, who was creeping over to the edge of the bed. Her face was alive with anger.

“If I wanted you to die by my hand, I would have done it when you came running out of Kato Sanyi's apartment. I had you in my sights and you never even saw me. I was sitting on this window ledge for nearly a minute before you even noticed. _Tsk, tsk._ How do you plan on keeping the princess safe with such poor situational awareness?”

He heard Azula pull in a breath, glancing at him with a pinched expression on her face. He had definitely let his guard down, if Rian had gotten the drop on them so easily as that. He could see the alarm in Azula's eyes; when they were alone they both dropped the pretense of calling him Tazeo. Had Rian heard?

“So why didn't you kill me in the street? Ambush me in Kato's apartment?”

“I haven't been ordered to kill you. Yet,” Rian said, and there was anger shaking his voice. He clearly disagreed with his orders.

“You haven't, huh?”

“No. It's lucky for you that you're such a big fat hero, Tazeo, otherwise you'd be tasting my knife right about now. Oh, how I wish I could slit your throat...”

“So what you do you want?”

“You know what I want, Tazeo,” Rian mumbled, his jaw twisting.

“You can't have her,” Sokka said, glancing at Azula, who looked disgusted.

“I won't deny that I'd like her very much, but there's something I want even more—that fucking Usurper's death, at my hands. I'd love nothing more than to rip his throat out...and yet somehow my superiors believe that you are more worthy of that than I am. Even now, after your failure to kill Kato Sanyi. You are to be spared.”

Rian's lips curled in disgust at that.

“That's news to me. And somehow I don't believe it,” Sokka said, still crouching with the bed between himself and Rian, Azula behind him. She grasped his hand and he squeezed it tightly. “You threw a knife at me.”

“You'll have to forgive me for that. I simply couldn't resist,” Rian said, flipping his knife end over end again. “You can both come out now. I won't harm you.”

“Throw your knife out the window, then,” he barked.

“So you can put your knife in my chest, or Azula can firebomb me? No, I don't think so. I came to talk, Tazeo. That's all.”

“Then say your piece and leave,” Sokka snarled.

“You've been given new orders,” Rian said, pulling out a scroll. He tossed them across the room and into the bed. Sokka didn't reach for it, but he did stare at it in surprise. “Despite your failure with Kato Sanyi, you're still be entrusted with some of our most important missions.”

“We failed to kill Kato Sanyi, as was ordered. I thought that was an immediate death sentence. Even if you don't kill Azula, because you have plans for her, surely I'm expendable.”

“You are definitely expendable, Tazeo. At least in my eyes. No, it's been decided by someone much higher up than I that you are necessary. As I said, your...unexpected heroics tonight took us by surprise. It spared your life, to my regret.”

Unexpected heroics? He hadn't done anything heroic at all. But Sokka stopped that line of thought immediately. He _had_ done something tonight. He'd gone back into that burning mansion and rescued one of Lady Shura's sons. Whom he had knocked out and might have left for dead if he hadn't gone back to get him. The smoke had been so thick in the hallway that Sokka had had to crawl along the floor to reach the man's unconscious body.

He hadn't wanted to save him. The man had put his hands on Azula. He had kissed Azula. He had nearly put her into a panic attack.

But what did that have to do with anything?

“Shura's son?”

Rian laughed a little. “You don't even know what you did, do you?”

Know what? Confusion marred his brow. What was he supposed to know? What as he missing here? He had a feeling it was something huge. Something game-changing.

“Pissed you off, I guess?”

“You have no idea how angry I am. You see, I believe you deserve to die, Tazeo. And not for your failure with Kato Sanyi. But because of her. It's for her that I killed Sanyi! It's for HER that I'm here. I joined the Smoke Demons for her! Everything I do is for her.”

Sokka looked down and met Azula's wide eyes. She looked as disturbed by Rian's admission as he felt, even though neither one of them felt particularly surprised by it. He hadn't been subtle about it.

Rian wasn't the subtle type.

“I'm not impressed, if that's what you're wondering,” Azula drawled, making Sokka bark with laughter. Rian glared in their direction. The bed was still between them, keeping him from attacking. Sokka was still weighing the pros and cons of throwing a knife at the bastard.

On one hand, Rian would stop looking at Azula like she was a juicy piece of steak that he wanted nothing more than to devour and spit out. On the other, killing a Smoke Demon might bring the wrath of the entire terrorist cell down on their heads.

Maybe he should just put a knife in Rian's crotch and split the difference.

Rian ignored Azula, as if he hadn't even heard her. Maybe he hadn't. Maybe he didn't care what Azula thought, or wanted. That pissed Sokka off even more.

“She should have been mine, Tazeo. I chased her for years through the Earth Kingdom, long before the Smoke Demons gave me a purpose. I knew that she was the only one who was worthy of the throne. That she alone was pure enough to replace the Usurper. I learned so much about our precious Princess Azula. So much even you probably don't know. I respect her. I fear her! And you treat her like a lowly concubine!”

“Maybe don't talk about her like she's not here,” Sokka said sharply. “Sounds to me like you're obsessed with her.”

“I love her, Tazeo. Can you say the same?”

“Gross,” Azula sneered, making Rian's face purple with rage.

“Gross?” Rian said, his voice rising in pitch as he swung his leg down off of the windowsill. “I'm not the one fucking a rapist, Azula.”

Azula's face paled instantly as Sokka glanced from her to Rian and back again. He felt his stomach sinking to his toes.

“Rian, don't...”

“Your Tazeo was an assassin long before he was recruited into the Smoke Demons, Princess. He killed hundreds, for money, for pleasure. That's not even the worst part. He hurt women, did he tell you that? Dozens of them. He ripped them apart, didn't you, Tazeo? Not a single one of them lived after he was done with them. He enjoyed it, didn't you, Tazeo? Your reputation for hurting girls is legendary. Imagine my shock and dismay at finding that the two of you were lovers. It makes me sick!”

Sokka felt his stomach heave, heat flashing up his spine and coloring his face. Mai's dossier on Tazeo had been quite extensive. He'd read all about Tazeo's crimes. All of them. Suddenly he felt disgusting, trapped in the skin of a man he had never wanted to be. _Would_ never be. A man he might have killed himself, if Mai hadn't done it for him.

“Azula...” Sokka started, glancing at her. The look on her face was inscrutable, but it was Rian's next words that shot fear through her eyes. That made her recoil from him as if she really did believe he were Tazeo and not Sokka.

“My dear Princess Azula... I can't believe you'd let filth like that touch you. Not after what happened to you in the Green Heart. After those two men on the road raped you and left you for dead.”

Azula took in a sharp breath, her eyes dilating to pinpricks. Then she was moving, surging to her feet with an expression of rage and hatred and grief in her eyes.

“AZULA!”

She poured fire through her fists, gathering blue flames in an instant. Rian's expression was obscene as he dropped down into the room in a crouch.

“I knew it,” Rian purred, his tongue sliding along his bottom lip. “Come on, Princess... Burn me, I'll wear your scar with pride...”

Azula went for him, throwing bluebell flames at him. It burst on the walls, hot, flaring, scorching the plaster. Sokka went for her, his heart hammering hard in his ears as Azula stalked toward Rian.

“Azula, stop... You'll burn this whole place down. Azula, there are other people in the hotel... AZULA!”

But she was gone, rage widening her eyes as she crossed the tiny space. Rian looked awestruck. And aroused. As if he'd gotten exactly what he'd wanted. Maybe he had.

“Did you enjoy it, Princess? I'm sure they did.”

“What are you trying to do, you son of a bitch!?” Sokka barked, but he thought he knew. Rian had been ordered not to kill him, for whatever reason. But Rian had gone rogue, and he was using the only weapon he could use, without laying the blame on himself.

_Azula._

If Azula went mad and burned him alive, then Rian got what he wanted. Maybe _everything_ that he wanted. Sokka dead. Azula. And a chance to kill Zuko himself, which had been denied to him so far.

Hatred flared in Sokka's chest as he held out his hands to Azula. She was shaking as she glared at Rian, reality fleeing from her eyes.

“Azula...calm down...” Sokka started, as Rian laughed and looked between them with avid enjoyment.

“He's a _rapist,_ Azula. He hurt little girls like you. Just like you, Azula. Kill him. Kill Tazeo. Be free. I know you want to. Burn this place down just like you did the Green Heart. Kill him and everything in this town... Do it and nothing will ever harm you again!”

Azula heaved a breath, the corona of flames around her hands growing, filling the room with heat and light. Sokka was forced back a step by the heat of the flames. The floor beneath her feet was starting to blacken and scorch. The heat of the flames lifted her hair, sent if flying around her face like a cloud of blackbirds.

She looked otherworldly. Like a spirit of vengeance. The panic in her eyes was unmistakable.

“AZULA... WHAT'S REAL?” Sokka shouted. “LOOK AT ME! WHAT'S REAL?”

“I hurt them. I hurt them. They hurt me and I hurt them...” she gasped, shaking like mad. “I'll hurt you. I swear, I'll hurt you...”

“WHAT'S REAL?” he ground out, edging closer, but flames were springing up on the floor, catching on the bedding, on the walls. “AZULA, PLEASE!”

Rian laughed and pointed at Sokka, his face bathed in demonic blue light and manic glee. “HE RAPED YOU! KILL HIM!”

Azula's senseless, terrified eyes turned from Rian and centered on Sokka. There was no recognition in her eyes. There was nothing there but hatred.

* * *

 

Pain. Laughter.

Struggling to free her hands and feet from the earth as it tried to devour her. Blood running down her scalp from a gaping wound.

The jerking rip of her clothing.

Begging, screaming, more laughter.

Trying to call the lightning, but it wouldn't come...it wouldn't come and she was alone and they were going to hurt her...

The sharp pain between her legs as he pumped into her, laughing, his rank breath on her face.

She screamed and dirt filled her mouth, her nose, until she couldn't breath. Couldn't scream, could do anything but struggle as first one, and then the other filled her, violated her, took the last bit of her control away...

And when they were done, when they'd had their fill, they left her there on the road. Like refuse. Discarded, naked, bleeding, dying...

But she hadn't died. She had been found. Healed, fed, given clothing and kindness...

Until the earth had buckled beneath the wheels of the caravan. Until the attack had started. Until she had heard that damned laughter coming from the trees and she had remembered it all...

And then everything had burned to ashes, with her at the center of the flames. Everything had died in the forest that day. Everything but her.

Fire was said to be cleansing, but she was unclean. There was dirt and ash in her mouth. A bastard in her belly. And death all around her.

“HE DID IT! KILL HIM! BURN IT ALL TO THE GROUND, AZULA!”

The voice ripped through her head as the flames danced blue and hot before her. She could feel the heat of it, warping everything, bursting and popping as the wood around her caught and blackened. It was all aflame.

She was aflame.

And he had to pay for what he had done.

He? No, _them._ The Earthbenders in the forest. Not him.

She saw him back away, saw him wince as fire licked his arm. His eyes were huge, blue, terrified as someone at her back laughed with perverse glee. It was the laughter that shot through her, that ripped fear into her heart.

She stopped, gasping as tears coursed down her cheeks.

“WHAT'S REAL, AZULA?” Sokka bellowed, backing into the corner. The room was on fire. Smoke poured across the ceiling like a living creature.

Sokka.

“KILL HIM, MY PRINCESS!” Rian bellowed behind her.

_My Princess._

She knew those words. Sokka called her that, with a soft caress in his voice. Not him. Not this fanatic who looked at her like he wanted to possess her as much as he wanted to worship her, who made her skin crawl, her whole body rebel in disgust.

My Princess. Sokka. Sokka, who kissed her like she was a woman and not a thing to be owned, manipulated, placed on a throne and bowed to. Sokka, whose touch turned her knees to water and set a bonfire blazing in her heart.

Sokka.

Sokka was real. He was the only real thing in her life.

“NO!” she screamed, reeling as reality flooded back to her and she clasped her hands over her mouth in horror.

“KILL HIM AND I'LL GIVE YOU EVERYTHING YOU'VE EVER WANTED!” Rian bellowed behind her. She whipped around to face him, her face contorted with rage.

“I want you to fucking die,” she snarled and whipped her hand around, her two fingers coming together. She just caught the look of shock on Rian's face before the lightning bolt blasted him through the wall and into the night air. She heard his scream as he fell out of sight.

“Azula!?”

She turned back to face Sokka, who was backed into the corner even more, the flames licking toward him and catching on his pant's leg.

“NO!” she screamed, reaching for the flames. She bent them to her will as she had back in Shura's ballroom, gathering the flames like disobedient children. It didn't take long to bring the fire in the little room under control, the flames dissipating with a hiss and a pop of charred, blackened wood.

The moment the fire was out, she sagged in place, all of the strength running out of her, sweat pouring down her face. Sokka surged forward, catching her as she fell.

She didn't fight him when he hefted her into his arms, cradling her against his chest.

“Azula? Are you okay?”

“I nearly killed you.”

“But you didn't,” he said gently as sweat poured down his face too. She tucked her face into his neck and clung to him, the only real thing in the world. The only thing she wanted. “I knew you wouldn't, my Princess. I knew you wouldn't.”

“I am yours, Sokka,” she sobbed. “I nearly killed you. I can't be trusted. Kill me! Kill me, make it stop!”

“Azula, no!” Sokka said, his voice filled with fear, his eyes huge and blue, so blue it was like her fire. And she wanted to burn in those eyes. To burn to nothing in his arms. “We have to go—Rian isn't dead. We have to--”

She could hear shouting in the hallway. Someone banged the door open, and people rushed in, shouting questions that hurt her ears. Sokka held her close and didn't let go for an instant. She held on as tightly as she dared, knowing that it wouldn't last.

That she was too dangerous. That she would have to leave him soon, for his own good.


	27. Twenty-Six

****“WHAT DID YOU DO?”

Crimson talons raked across Rian's face the next moment, blood chasing the wounds and running in hot red rivers down his cheek. His wide mouth grimaced as he spat out salty blood at her daintily slippered feet. The woman didn't move away, just stood above him, glaring as if she wanted to bite off each of his fingers, one at a time. Just for the sheer pleasure of it.

He had no doubt she could do it, and might, if it wouldn't put her makeup in jeopardy.

“I didn't do anything, my Lady. Princess Azula is unstable. She thought I was going to kill Tazeo, because of the failure with Kato Sanyi. Despite my reassurance, she lost control and she attacked me. I barely got away with my life.”

“Have they turned on us? ON ME?” she screeched, her voice rising.

“I don't know, my Lady, I--” Rian started, but her other hand reached out, grasping his short hair and pushing his head back, exposing his throat. “I have failed.”

“Perhaps you have. I should kill you. You've put my plans at risk. I need Azula. If she believes the Smoke Demons are after her, she can't play my little game, now can she? And you know how much I love my game. All of the lovely pieces must fall into place...and if they don't... Well, then someone has to pay for that, Rian.”

“I'm prepared to pay with my life.”

She laughed, shivery and girlish. “Oh-ho, how eager you seem to lay down your life for me. But I happen to know you're not at all loyal to _me_ , Rian. It's that wolf-bat shit crazy bitch who electrocuted your ass that you're mad for. Don't deny it. Even now you hunger for her.”

“If you had let me kill Tazeo, my Lady, this--”

“Her lover saved my son's life tonight. That's not something I can forget. It's the reason I didn't have you kill him in the first place, why I sent you there to make amends. And you fucked it up!” she said and shoved his head back.

“I'm sorry, Lady Shura.”

The noblewoman made a disgusted noise in her throat as she stalked away from him and rolled her neck, making it pop with a loud crack. She breathed in through her nose and then turned back to face him. He cowered before her.

This woman was the Demon's Head, the real power behind the Smoke Demons. She had spent years gathering dissidents, assassins, brutes, cunning spies, and high-level operatives to her side, ever since Ozai had been thrown into prison. Ever since Fire Lord Zuko had taken over the throne.

She had woven lies around herself, to hide her activities. There were recruits, operatives, and agents in the terrorist cell who had no idea who the Demon's Head was. She had orchestrated it that way.

Rian had often wished that he was one of the ignorant ones. Lady Shura was a force to be reckoned with. She was a brutal as her sons, and single-minded in her goal of taking down Fire Lord Zuko.

“I've been rethinking my strategy, Rian,” Lady Shura purred. “You see, I have plans for Azula, but...plans change. I like covering all of my bases. Plans within plans. Preparation is key to a hostile terrorist coup, after all. Azula is mad. A loose cannon. Do you believe that I can trust her to kill her brother?”

He hesitated and she clapped her hands together sharply.

“WELL? SPEAK UP!” she snapped.

“I believe she hates the Usurper. That she wants the throne.”

“You'd love to see her on the throne, wouldn't you?” she said, pursing her red lips.

“Yes.”

“But I don't intend to put her on it, Rian. That throne is meant for me. And my sons after me. Which leaves me with an insane princess on my hands. I could have her killed. Imprisoned. That's my intention, as you know. Or at least...it _was._ But what if I gave her to _you?_ ”

“What?”

She smiled at him, slowly and bent over him where he was crouching on the sooty floor before her. She lifted her dress to her thighs and settled over his lap. This close, he could see the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes that she tried to hide with makeup. She was beautiful, but time was ravaging her.

“I know you want her on the throne, that you'd like to go behind my back to put her there. Isn't that right? That's what you wanted tonight, isn't it? DON'T LIE!” she snarled and grasped his face in her talons. He glanced at the two men standing in the corner of the burned out husk of the ballroom. They were large and fast, brutal and unforgiving.

There was nowhere to run.

“I love her, my Lady. I merely wanted her to kill Tazeo, not betray you.”

“Hmmm. You'd do anything not to see me kill her, isn't that right?” she said in a sickly sweet voice, still grasping his face.

“Yes, my Lady. Anything at all.”

Shura smiled and let his face go with a hard pat right over the scratches she'd made. “I need your loyalty most of all, Rian. You showed me tonight how easily it wavers when it comes to her. Your jealousy over Tazeo overcame your good sense. You nearly ruined everything.”

“I didn't--”

She reached between their bodies and grabbed him by the balls, twisting until he howled in pain and tried to buck her off of him. She grabbed his face with her other hand and he felt her nails digging into his cheeks, piercing the flesh. She tutted at him.

“No, no, no...I told you not to lie to me...” she purred. “If you lie to me, I'll have to have Li-Shang Junior squash your little head into pieces and that won't be fun for either of us. Besides, there's so much use I could get out of you, darling.”

“I'll...do...anything...” he panted, sweat pouring down his face as her grip on his balls tightened and remained.

“Would you die for her?”

“Yes,” he gasped. “Of course!”

“Good!” Shura said, letting go of him and clapping her hands together in delight. “You see, my plans have plans within plans and lately I've been thinking that they're too complicated! Simple is best, you know. I've been trying to seduce the Fire Lord, but he's too wrapped around that little Earth Kingdom slut who pretends she's some kind of painted up bodyguard to notice a _real_ woman.”

Her smile was brittle at that and he could sense how much that bothered her.

“My Lady...”

Her smile brightened, as if the Fire Lord's rejection meant nothing to her. “Anyway, it doesn't matter. I thought I'd do this the easy way, but the Fire Lord has chosen to insult me instead. His loss. All of my plans are going forward, but I'm going to give him another chance to accept me into his bed. For his own good, he'll choose me. It will make everything that much easier. If he doesn't... Well...” Her face tightened. “If he doesn't comply, I'm going to have him assassinated.”

“That's...that's what you intend for Azula and Tazeo to do.”

“That depends entirely on _you_ ,” she said, poking him in the nose with the tip of her finger. “I want you to try and kill the Fire Lord for me, Rian.”

“I would love nothing more than to kill that Usurper to Azula's throne.”

“I know you would.”

“I'll do it right away.”

“No, not until I'm ready. There's too much at stake here. Too many pawns I have to maneuver into place first. Zuko will die when the time is right. If you fail to kill Zuko, I will still need Azula and Tazeo to do the job you couldn't. I need Tazeo alive for that, do you understand?”

“He doesn't deserve her.”

“But _you_ do. And you'll have her, when all of my pieces fall into place, I'll give her to you, Rian. You'll finally have her, do you understand?”

Lust filled him, hard and deep, jealousy roiling through him. Hatred seethed in his guts as he thought of Tazeo's arms around Azula. His princess. His. HIS.

She had thrown him through a wall with a blast of lightning and he still burned for her. As he would always burn for her. She would be his. He would make sure that he did not fail to kill the Usurper. He would climb the face of the palace if he had to.

“Of course, my Lady. I am loyal to you. Forever.”

“I know you are,” she said and leaned forward, pulling his mouth to hers. Her nails sank into the back of his head as she pushed her mouth against his, opening it, forcing her tongue inside. He could do nothing but kiss her back, his heart trip-hammering with fear as her taste burst into his mouth like bitter sea prunes.

She pulled back after a few agonizing minutes, sucking on his lower lip. When she released him, her tongue darted out, flicking across his lips. Then she slapped him.

He was still reeling when she climbed off of him, giggling to herself, sounding much more like a school girl than a woman in her fifties with four grown sons. She kicked a blackened piece of wood and a hump of plaster out of her way.

“I think it's best if you're moved to another assignment until I'm ready for you to kill the Usurper. You will send Baz after Azula and Tazeo, to repair the damage you've done.”

“What if they attack Baz?”

“Baz is smarter than you are, Rian. He will get them to cooperate.”

“Yes, my Lady. I'll see to it immediately.

“There's something else I need you to do.”

“Anything, my Lady. I am yours to command.”

“I do so love it when men grovel at my feet,” she mused and tossed her hair, although not a strand was out of place. “I'm really quite tired of those little painted bitches of Zuko's. He's too close to them, especially that slut of a Captain. I know he's fucking her. And even if he isn't, everyone believes he is. I started those rumors, so of course they do.” She giggled again and turned back to face him.

“What would you have me do?”

“I want one of those little cunts for my own,” she said, pulling out a scroll and tossing it at his feet. “One of them has a mother who lives in the Earth Kingdom, all alone and unprotected. I want you to get her and bring her back here. We're going to have some fun with her. I'm sure her daughter will do anything to save her. Spying for me...killing for me... And when I'm through with her, I'll just have her killed, like the rest of Zuko's painted bitches.”

Rian smiled and bowed his head. “Of course, my Lady. I'll make her suffer.”

“See that you do. I only have one operative in the palace at the moment, and he's not a fighter. He's too useful a source of information to risk either. It's because of his intelligence that I know Zuko's council will be pushing for Zuko to marry and produce an heir. There's talk of a ball, so that he can find a wife. If he doesn't choose me before that, then I'll have him killed.”

Rian's eyebrows went up at that. He knew that Zuko would not choose Shura for anything, but he held his tongue. He valued it too much.

“Of course, my Lady. I won't fail you.”

“Good. Tonight has not gone the way I wanted, Rian. I wanted to see Kato Sanyi's blood on my floor, but that was denied me. My ballroom burned down and the culprit got away.”

“An unforeseen complication, my Lady, and not of my doing.”

Shura laughed again and turned back to face him. “You think I blame you? For a fire mad Bender gatecrashing my party and setting my drapes on fire? If I blamed you for _that_ , you'd be as dead as Kato Sanyi.”

“The Fire Bug has become a problem, my Lady.”

“Do you fucking think?” she said, gesturing to the burned out ballroom. “I let him continue to operate because he was a good distraction from our real operatives, the perfect smoke screen. But his little stunt nearly got my son killed. If it wasn't for Tazeo, Kang would be dead. I owe him a debt because of that and you nearly ruined it.”

She went over to one of the hulking brutes standing sentinel at the wide-open doors of the ballroom. She patted Kang's arm, pouting as she eyed his broken nose and the bump on his head.

“How did you even end up like this, darling?” she simpered, licking her fingers and rubbing a smudge of soot off of Kang's nose.

“I don't remember, Mother. I was having some fun with Princess Azula, that's the last thing I remember.”

“Hmmm. How interesting,” she said and glanced at Rian. “Perhaps if you fail me, Rian, I'll give Azula to Kang. Would you like that, darling?”

Shura's eldest son pulled a wickedly sharp smile. “I would, Mother.”

“You'd better not fail me, Rian. You know how I love to spoil my sons,” she said indulgently just as three figures came out of the morning gloom. The sun was rising, mist creeping across the snowy gardens. “Oh, look! Today is certainly looking up, isn't I?”

Shura's other two sons, Fang and Quang, stumped into the ballroom and threw a figure down on the blackened floor before Rian, who jumped back when he saw the bloody and swollen face of the man before him.

He looked up at Shura in question as she stalked around the beaten figure.

“ _'Firebug, firebug, fly away unseen, the house is on fire and the children all scream...'”_ Shura quoted in a sing-song voice. Then she kicked the man on the ground with the toe of her slipper. It came away wet with blood. “This is him?”

“It's him, Mother,” Fang said, studying his bloody knuckles with disinterest. “We found him on the way to South Ruby Docks. He was still wearing _this_.”

Fang threw a black, flame-shaped mask onto the floor beside the feebly stirring figure of the Fire Bug. He seemed to be waking. Shura picked up the mask and gave a little smile.

“Black flames. How appropriate. Get him up. I want to talk to our fire mad friend for a moment. We have so much to discuss.”

Fang and Quang picked the man up by the arms, his feet still turned as he breathed feebly. His face was a mass of bruises and cuts. One of Shura's sons had broken his fingers, one by one, and they were splayed at odd angles, making Rian wince.

“Are you handsome under here, I wonder?” Shura mused as she grabbed him by the hair and pushed his head back. The Fire Bug opened one swollen eye and stared at her for a moment. Then he laughed with a wheeze, spraying blood across Shura's face. She winced back, disgust on her face.

“I take it you recognize me?”

“Happy birthday!” Shura slapped the Fire Bug across the face, but he laughed, his tongue lolling out of his mouth. “Burn, burn, burn... You all deserved to burn in here. Screaming and burning and screaming and burning and screaming and burning until there was nothing left but ashes to piss on.”

“I'd hate to disappoint you, but no one died tonight.”

“Just your ugly fucking décor,” the Fire Bug snorted and then spat a wad of bloody saliva right into Shura's face.

“Kill him!” Shura shrieked as she wiped at her face with the sleeve of her low-cut gown. Kang grabbed a knife from his belt and started toward the Fire Bug, but Shura stopped him. “No, wait. Killing him would be a waste of a perfectly good Firebender.”

“Go ahead and kill me, lady,” the Fire Bug wheezed. “I don't care. Just set me on fire. That's the only way I want to die. Do it, come on...light me up...burn, burn, burn...”

“Mother, he's crazy.”

“Of course, he is,” Shura said to Kang as she walked back over to the Fire Bug. She studied him silently for a moment, her head tilting to the side. “Do you honestly want to die, Fire Bug?”

“Naww, I wanna set fire to your pretty, pretty dress and watch you go up like a birthday candle. I wanna make a wish.”

Shura's lips quirked at that. “You've been making yourself a nuisance lately. Setting fire to everything and everyone and getting in my way while you do it. You know you'll be stopped by Fire Lord Zuko's trained hog-monkeys eventually. Cornered like an elephant-rat and put to death for your crimes. And they won't burn you. Fire Lord Zuko would never give you the honor.”

The Fire Bug's eyes flashed with anger at that. “I don't care if they stop me. I don't care about anything. I just want the world to burn.”

Shura smiled. “I think I can help you there, my dear little Fire Bug. What if I gave you the chance to burn the Royal Palace to the ground?”

Avarice burned in the Fire Bug's eyes. “Can't get near it. They got guards, walls. It's impossible.”

“I have my ways, do you believe that?”

The Fire Bug glanced at Shura's sons holding him up, and then over at Rian, bleeding from the scratches on his face, still on his knees.

“I believe you do.”

Shura smiled. “How would you like to become my personal arsonist?”

The Fire Bug licked his lips and then smiled. “Burn, burn, burn...”

“Yes,” Shura said, patting his face. “It will all burn to nothing...and I'll be Queen of the Ashes. No one will ever see me coming.”

 


	28. Twenty-Seven

****Sokka stared into the little man's sharp hazel eyes as they surveyed first him and then Azula, who was standing behind him, her arms wrapped around her middle. She looked like she was a million miles away. Sokka stepped between her and the Captain, one brow lifting as he scowled.

“Well?”

“Fine, fine...we've got room on the deck if you've got the coin?” the Captain said, his rough voice tilting at the end

Sokka shoved a handful of gold pieces into the man's eager hand. He hefted it with a little smile and then jerked his balding head back toward his ship, a small cargo vessel filled with crates and barrels and bearing the overwhelming stench of fish.

“We'll be setting off in an hour, as soon as we have this cargo loaded. It takes about two hours to get to Red Mountain Island. You ain't allowed below decks. You gotta piss you can do it into the wind. And I ain't seen either of you, understand?” the Captain said, squinting at Sokka.

“I think that's best,” Sokka said as the Captain hawked back and spat at Sokka's feet, and then turned away, pocketing the gold. Sokka watched him shout orders to the coolies on the docks for a moment, and then turned back to Azula.

“He'll take us as far as Red Mountain. We can figure out what to do from there,” Sokka said in an undertone, shouldering his scorched pack. Most of their supplies had been ruined in the fire at the hotel, but he'd managed to rescue most of his pack, one of their bedrolls and a few items from Azula's pack that had escaped the flames. They would have to replace everything else.

Except they were low on money. And the Smoke Demons were out to kill them.

 _One problem at a time_ , Sokka thought to himself as Azula looked up at him, blinked and then looked around as if she had only just realized that they were at the North Ruby Docks, with snow dotting her hair and a cold, salty wind coming in off of the heaving gray ocean before them.

“What's on Red Mountain?”

“Hopefully not any Smoke Demons. This is the only ship leaving today and it's going to Red Mountain Island, so that's where we're going. The further we get from Ruby Island, the better,” Sokka said tensely and then studied Azula's pale face. She looked thoughtful, her eyes downcast as she chewed on one of her ragged fingernails. She was still wearing the long green robe, and her nightgown beneath it, but he had thrown his own black jacket over it to ward off the cold air. The rest of her clothing had gone up in flames along with the room. “Are you okay? You look cold.”

“I'm not cold,” she mumbled. “Firebender, remember?”

“Hard to forget sometimes,” he said, reaching for her hands, but she pulled away.

“I nearly killed you.”

His smile was tight and it didn't reach his eyes. “But you didn't.”

“I got lost again. I...for a moment, I forgot you weren't him. _Them._ Everything in my head was so jumbled up, Sokka. When he said those things to me, I was... You weren't _you_. That doesn't make any damned sense, but...” She touched her temple, looking angry and pained.

“I understand,” he said heavily, leaning down to catch her gaze. He held it, ice to fire, and she seemed to sag a little. “Azula, I understand. Rian knew exactly what to say to you to trigger you. He wanted you to kill me.”

“I should have killed him,” she bit out, swiping at her eyes.

After Azula had put out the flames, Sokka had gathered what little supplies that he could and taken her out of the city as fast and as far as he could. Especially once he realized that Rian was nowhere to be found.

The man had been electrocuted and shot out of a two-story window, but somehow he had survived. He doubted that boded well for the both of them. It was better to run than wait around for the Smoke Demons to send someone after them. Someone they might not see coming.

“I should have killed him before he got a chance to hurt you, Azula,” he said, catching one of her hands and rubbing his thumb across her knuckles. Her hand was shaking, and he was sure it wasn't from the cold. “I'm sorry he said those things.”

A tear tracked down her cheek. “He wasn't lying, Sokka. Everything he said about me was true.”

“I know,” he whispered. “You don't have to explain any of that, Azula. You don't owe anyone an explanation.”

“But it was so easy,” she said, anger in her voice. Anger, he knew, that was directed at herself. “For him to bait me. To say the one thing he knew would make me lose control. That would make me forget everything. That would make me forget _you._ ”

“For what it's worth, I'm not taking it personally, Azula,” he said, lifting her hand to his face. He kissed the backs of her knuckles and then pushed her hand against his chest, her palm pressed flatly over his heart. “You got lost for a moment. But you knew what was real, in the end. I trust to remember. To find me when everything in that beautiful head of yours is chaos. I knew you wouldn't hurt me.”

“I didn't. I still don't.”

“What's real, Azula?”

She looked into his eyes and he saw sadness lurking in her gaze. But she took a trembling breath and whispered, “You are.”

His smile was slow and gentle. “I won't let Rian come near you again.”

“They'll come for us, won't they?”

“I don't plan on being anywhere they can find us,” Sokka said, glancing at the men loading crates onto the ship.

“What are we going to do?”

“Perhaps you should stop and listen to reason? Just a suggestion,” a familiar voice said behind Sokka. He whirled in place, putting himself between the man and Azula, one hand on the sword he'd strapped to his back.

The Smoke Demon was leaning against a barrel of what smelled like salted herring, his feet crossed at the ankles, a red hood pulled down low over his bearded face. He surveyed Sokka and then pulled out a pipe, lighting the tobacco with a flick of his finger. He sucked on the pipe a few times, exhaling a cloud of gray smoke that was snatched away by the wind.

Sokka recognized him. This was the Smoke Demon they'd first met in the tavern in Gei, so long ago. They'd seen him on and off throughout their travels. He never said much, not even his name. He usually just tossed them a scroll with their next mission scrawled on it in a crabbed hand, and left. Sokka had never seen him move at anything but a leisurely pace, always puffing on his pipe, always watching them from beneath his hood.

Sokka wasn't fooled, however. This man was dangerous, a Firebender. No doubt he was a formidable fighter, if he chose to be.

“How did you find us?” Sokka said, gripping the pommel of his sword tightly as he put out his other arm, stopping Azula from surging forward.

The Smoke Demon's gaze flicked from him to Azula and back again, as he puffed meditatively on his pipe. He glanced at the sword, but didn't seem bothered by Sokka's hair trigger.

“You're standing on one of the busiest docks on the whole damned island. Wasn't hard to find you,” the Smoke Demon puffed. “You can put that away.”

“The last bastard who said that tried to have me killed.”

“Yeah, Rian's a problem,” the man said in a thoroughly unconcerned voice. “But so are the two of you.”

“Are you going to try and kill us?” Azula asked, her voice sharp and angry.

The man puffed on his pipe for a moment, watching them with something like exasperation in his eyes. “I haven't been sent to kill you, Princess Azula. I'm no assassin. I'm just a man who knows how to find things. Today I was ordered to find you two before Rian's mistake sent you scattering to the four winds.”

“So he lived?” Azula sneered.

“He's alive,” the Smoke Demon said around the pipe, which he'd clenched between his teeth. “He's been punished and reassigned. You'll be working under me exclusively from here on out. Unless you're thinking of fighting me, Tazeo?”

He gestured to the sword in Sokka's hand with one thick finger. Sokka slowly slid it back into its scabbard and stood up straight before the Smoke Demon.

“I'm willing to listen.”

“Good, good. I knew you were a man of reason, though Rian seemed to think you didn't have any brains in that head of yours. What was done to you last night was a mistake and my superiors are extending their hand in apology. Rian's obsession with the princess has been noted. He will no longer be a problem.”

“He should be killed for what he did,” Sokka said through gritted teeth.

The man's lips twisted. “I don't disagree, but that's not up to me or you, Tazeo. I have my orders and I follow them. I find that makes things rather simple. I've been sent to put the two of you at ease. There will be no retaliation, not for the botched assassination of Kato Sanyi, nor the incident with Rian. I've been given instructions to send you to your next safe house, and your next assignment. Should you choose to continue.”

“And if we don't want to do this anymore?”

The man pulled his pipe out of his mouth. He blew out a cloud of smoke as he tapped the pipe against one of the crates, little crumbles of ash and tobacco falling at his feet.

“Then Azula doesn't get her throne. And there will be retribution,” the man said slowly, looking up at them. His eyes were clear and cold beneath his hood. “Think long and hard about this. It isn't often that second chances are extended by my superiors. You're very lucky they sent me and not an assassin. The choice is yours.”

Sokka glanced at Azula. Could they trust the Smoke Demons? Well, he knew the answer to that and it was a resounding no. But that had always been true, even before Rian's attack and the failure with Kato Sanyi had drawn a possible death sentence over their heads. He vaguely remembered Rian attempting to tell them this very thing before his rage and jealousy had overcome him and he'd triggered Azula in an attempt to kill “Tazeo.”

Rian had gone against orders when he'd tried to have him killed. The Smoke Demons did not want them dead. They had plans for Azula to assassinate Zuko. It was the whole reason they were doing this, why they had played along, why he had assumed Tazeo's disgusting identity.

If they threw this offer away then he would be throwing away their chances of saving Zuko from an assassination attempt. It would send a real assassin after the Fire Lord, someone who might actually accomplish the deed. It would put a price on their heads.

It would put Azula in danger. If the Smoke Demons didn't think they could use her, they would kill her. Of that he was certain.

He couldn't let that happen.

He glanced at Azula and their gazes met. Her lips were tight, but she nodded in agreement. She understood what was going through his head perfectly.

He turned back to the Smoke Demon, his jaw tight.

“Are you in or out?” the man asked, a bored drawl in his voice, as if the answer didn't matter to him one way or the other. Perhaps it didn't.

“We were never out.”

* * *

 

The Smoke Demon—Baz—sent them to a safe house on Sunbird Island, with instructions to wait there for a week for further instructions. He also gave them a bag of gold to replace their lost gear. Then he was gone, leaving them at the docks as quickly as he'd come. The man wasn't much for wasting time. At least Azula could appreciate that.

They took the ship to Red Mountain; they'd already paid for passage and it was in the same vaguely southward direction as their destination on Sunbird. Sokka didn't say anything as they stood at the rail of the ship, the cold wind blowing through his long hair, his blue eyes dark with thought.

Azula gripped the damp railing and stood beside him, watching the waves. She stared down into the briny depths, remembering what it had been like to sink into the icy pond. How she had slipped so easily into unconsciousness. Like she was falling asleep.

If she threw herself in, would the sea take her, sweep her away, end it all?

She was so tired. Her bones ached. Her heart ached.

She had nearly killed Sokka, and the very thought of how close she had come to losing it completely was almost too much for her to handle. She was dangerous. Too dangerous to stay by his side.

“I know what you're thinking,” Sokka said grimly, his gaze still on the heaving waters around them. His long hair whipped across his face, hiding his eyes for a moment.

“No, you don't.”

“I'm not going to let you run, Azula,” he said, his voice firm but gentle as it carried over the wind and the crack and snap of the billowing sails.

“I wasn't--”

“Yes, you were,” he said, nudging her with his elbow. “I know exactly what's going in your head. I can read you like a book.”

“No one has ever been able to do that,” she said lightly. “Except you.”

“I'm good with people.”

“No, you're not,” she laughed humorlessly.

“Well then, I'm good with you,” he said, turning his back to the railing. He hitched his hip against it and crossed his arms over his chest. She smiled and lifted her hand, covering her mouth. Something glittered in his eyes, the little half-smile on his lips making her toes curl in her boots. “Please don't disappear on me, Azula.”

“It would be better if I did.”

“Not for me,” he said with a sigh.

“But I'm dangerous.”

“So am I.”

“You didn't nearly burn me to death, Sokka. I could have killed you.”

“You didn't. You wouldn't. End of discussion,” he said sharply.

“You know I'm a danger! You know I'm crazy, Sokka! I can't be trusted!”

“Don't call yourself that!” he snapped, standing upright, even though the ship was swaying in the waves. He seemed completely at ease on the ship, a man born for the seas. “I trust you, okay? I trust you with my life, Azula.”

“Why?”

He reached out and touched her hand. “Because you earned it.”

“I killed people, Sokka. I lost control and I burned down an entire forest. I burned innocent people alive just to get at the men who hurt me. I can still hear their screams. Every fucking night I hear it. I see them all of the time. When I'm awake, when I'm asleep. The traders. The woman with the baby. She was kind to me and I killed her. Do you understand, Sokka? I killed them all. I had no control. None! I couldn't stop it. I was too lost, too afraid, too... _fucking crazy_ to stop it. That's what could have happened last night. It's what I could have done to _you._ You shouldn't trust me.”

Sokka reached for her, bringing her against his body and turning her out of the wind. She wanted to push him away, but his warm, solid arms held her tightly and she found herself gripping the front of his shirt, pulling his scent into her lungs. She could hear his racing heart against her ear and she pressed her head harder against his chest, grounded by the sound. By him.

“Azula, what happened in that forest happened. The traders. The fire. The men who... The men who raped you. It happened. There's no way to make it right. You just have to accept what happened, find purpose in it, and move on.”

Tears sprang from her eyes as his words ripped through her, raw and bald in their truth. She had never said the words out loud before. Had never told anyone what the men on the road had done to her, but Rian had known. Or he had guessed. Had Sokka known? She'd suspected that he might before. He certainly hadn't seemed shocked. And he wasn't disgusted.

She didn't know why she'd thought that he might be, but the fact that he wasn't soothed some terrible, dark fear inside of her. It was like a knot had untwisted in her guts and she was finally able to breathe again.

“Purpose? There was no purpose, Sokka. They did what they did to me because they could. Because I was alone and stupid and dying from dehydration. I was too weak to fight back. And they took everything from me. What little control I had,” she whispered as Sokka ran his hands down her hair, stroking it as she clutched him to her. “How can I accept what they did, Sokka? They ruined me.”

“No, they didn't,” he said fiercely, tipping her head back. “They hurt you. They violated you. But they didn't destroy you. There's no power in the universe that can destroy you. You went through something terrible, something that might have broken someone weaker than you. But it didn't. You're still here. You're still fighting. You're trying to do the right thing. You're not some broken thing they discarded. You're Princess Azula of the Fire Nation and you are a motherfucking force of nature.”

She half-laughed at that, tears scorching her cheeks. “You make it sound so easy, Sokka.”

“I know it's not, though. I know what you've done, and I don't hate you for it. I don't think I ever could. All I want to do is protect you. I can't imagine my life without you in it, Azula. Please don't leave me.”

She lifted up on tiptoe and kissed his cheek, but when she pulled away, he turned his head and caught her lips with his own. She kissed him back, swaying in his arms as the ship crested wave after wave. His arms tightened around her, holding her steady as his kiss deepened. He angled his head, his tongue darting against her lip.

She pulled his tongue inside and moaned when it swept across hers. His hands caressed her back, spreading possessively. His stubble razed her skin, prickling, sending hot flashes along her wind-chilled skin.

How did he do that? Turn her into woman made of flames with just the heat of his mouth, the touch of his hand? She blazed in his arms, forgetting everything. All of it. Her guilt. What had happened to her on the forest road so long ago. Rian's attack.

All of it.

All she wanted was the man in her arms. He was the only real thing in her life.

She was in love with him.

She gasped, pulling away from him, her hand lifting to her lips. Sokka's heavy-lidded eyes were blazing with arousal, his lips open and red.

“Azula...”

“Sokka, I...” she mumbled as her mind and heart warred with one another. She couldn't be in love with him. She couldn't love anyone. She desired him, with every inch of her body. With every bit of her soul. But love him?

She didn't even know what the word meant.

And yet...

She pushed at his shoulders and reeled away from him. “I can't do this. We can't do this. Nothing has changed.”

“I'm sorry, Azula, I...” Sokka started and then hung his head. “It won't happen again.”

She didn't say anything, just covered her mouth and stared at the swirling water below them, wishing she could sink into the depths. Anything to get away from the ache in her heart and the certainty that she was deeply, painfully, in love with him.


	29. Twenty-Eight

****The depressingly gray winter slid into a wet spring filled with rain showers, riotous flowers bursting from every meadow and mountainside, and warm winds from the south that banished the cold and promised a scorching summer that just beyond their fingertips.

They hadn't seen Rian again, which Sokka was both grateful for and resentful of. He still wanted to kill the bastard for hurting Azula. For using her trauma as a weapon. For looking at her like he'd wanted to own her.

Not that he was jealous. He had no right to be, because Azula wasn't his. Would never be his.

Even though his whole body ached when he looked at her. Even though he found himself smiling as he watched her practice her Firebending when they had a few quiet moments to relax in. Even though he was pretty sure he was falling for her.

 _Had_ fallen for her, at some point in their journey. He couldn't quite figure out when it had happened, but he knew it had. And that confused him. A lot.

He was still in love with Suki. He knew that he was, that that was a situation that he'd have to confront eventually. It had been eight months since they'd last seen each other. He hadn't written. What exactly could he say to explain it all? He'd started a thousand letters in his head, but all of it was inadequate and thoroughly insulting.

He wondered what Suki thought of his silence. She was probably angry with him. He would have been, if she had gone silent on him like that. Perhaps angry enough to break up with him over it. He couldn't expect her to want to stay after he'd put her through this, even if it hadn't been intentional.

So where did that leave them? When this was all over, if he survived, what would he do? Would he go back to Suki, like nothing had happened? Assuming she didn't break up with him on the spot for disappearing on her. Would she even want him back? Or would he...?

 _Do what?_ he mused as he watched Azula comb out her wet hair one afternoon. She was sitting on the porch of the little cabin they'd been staying in for the past week. There was a meadow stretching out before the cabin, dotted with rudbeckia and peonies. A warm breeze ruffled the long green grasses, bringing in the scent of the flowers.

He watched her brush and then attempt to braid her hair, while the wind snatched up little strands, making them dance across her face. Watched the sweep of her eyelashes against her pale cheeks. Watched her bare toes flexing in the grasses. The curve of her calf, her green robe pooled around her bared knee.

What would he do? Go back to Suki...or stay with Azula?

Eight months ago the thought might have made him laugh out loud. But that had been before he'd gotten to know Azula. Before he'd fallen for her.

Would he leave her? Could he? Was it even fair for him to think these things? He had a feeling it wasn't. Not to Azula. Not to Suki.

Things between him and Azula were tense. They'd stopped sleeping together—for about two days. She'd had one of her nightmares on that second night and he'd climbed into bed with her again. He'd missed sleeping beside her, and he knew she'd missed it too. Neither one of them had tried to put a stop to it.

It was wrong. Suki would never understand it, but he didn't stop. He didn't want to. Every night he curled around Azula, breathed in her scent and tried to convince himself that he felt nothing for her but protective friendship.

He had never been good at lying to himself. He was always a brutal truth kind of guy, and the brutal truth was that his resolve was crumbling. He wanted her. He wanted to kiss her, touch her, hold her. He wanted to make love to Azula. He ached in his bones for her.

He wasn't sure what Azula felt. He knew she was attracted to him, but since he had kissed her on that ship, his earlier promise not to disappearing like smoke in the wind, she had been oddly distant with him, for all that they were sleeping wrapped around each other every night.

What was going through her head? He could usually read her, but where he was concerned he felt at a total loss. Did she feel the same way he did? Did she ache the way he ached? Was she in love with him, as he thought he was in love with her?

And did it matter? Did any of it matter? Suki sat between them like an anchor, a shot of reality whenever his feelings overwhelmed him. He wouldn't cheat on her. At least not more than he already had. He wasn't going to be That Guy. Not again.

Oh, but he _wanted_ to be.

Standing in the doorway of the cabin, Sokka drained the herbal tea he'd been nursing and set the cup aside. His subtle shift of movement made the warped wooden boards beneath his bare feet creak, and Azula glanced over her shoulder at him.

A little smile quirked her lips, her eyes sweeping over him for a moment.

“I didn't know you were there,” she said in a surprised voice. “Either I'm losing my edge or you're finally getting more stealthy.”

“I'm a master of stealth, Princess,” he said, his tone offended, though he teased her with a lopsided grin. “They call me Stealth Guy.”

“Who calls you that?”

“People? Sometimes. Occasionally. One time,” he demurred and then winked at her. He saw her cheeks glow with pink and bit down on the inside of his lip. He loved it when she blushed. She pushed her wind-tangled braid out of her hair and shook her head at him.

“I'm sure they were teasing you.”

“Probably,” he snorted and then gestured vaguely to her hair, which she had started to pick out again. “Want me to braid that for you?”

Her dark brow arched at him. “You know how to braid hair?”

“I used to braid my sister's hair for her sometimes. After my mom died. Gran-Gran's hands hurt a lot, and Katara always got it tangled when she did it herself, so I learned how. She used to beg me to do it,” Sokka said with a shrug as he walked over to her, lowering himself onto the porch behind her.

She didn't say anything when he put his legs alongside hers, her body cradled between his thighs, his bare feet dangling off of the end of the porch. She turned her head away from him, pushing the long cascade of her dark hair over her shoulder.

“You miss her, don't you?” she said as he ran his hands down her slightly damp hair, undoing tangles with his fingers. Her hair was thick and heavy, and as soft as silk in his fingers. She smelled of rosemary and lemongrass.

“More than I thought I would, actually. We've always been close. I mean, we drive each other crazy, but...she's my little sister. I love her. I bet she's going out of her mind with worry right now,” he said, and there was just a touch of a sigh in his words. He hadn't spared much thought for Katara, or what she might be going through right now, wondering if he was alive or dead. He felt a little guilty about that. She had been against the plan from the start.

And she had been especially worried that Azula might do something to hurt him.

He'd been certain that Katara was right about that when they'd started on this journey, but now... Now what would Katara think to see him braiding Azula's hair, while secretly trying to talk himself out of falling ass over elbows in love with her?

She'd say he was an idiot. She'd yell. She'd probably hit him with a snowball and then freeze him in a block of ice until he was ready to come to his senses.

He'd already tried a few cold showers in the same futile attempt to talk himself out of his feelings, but they hadn't worked in the slightest. They'd just made him cold...which had just made him want to hop into bed next to Azula's warm body even more.

Yeah, he was in trouble. Katara would kill him if she knew.

“Your sister doesn't like me,” Azula said.

“Well... No, she doesn't,” he said and then laughed. “Katara is the Master of Grudge-Holding. You nearly killed her husband once. And her. And Zuko. And all of us at one time or another.” He winced. _Way to stick your foot in your mouth._

“Sokka--”

He leaned in, putting his mouth beside her ear. “I've already forgiven you for that, by the way. Besides, Zuko tried to do the same thing to us and we all forgave him like, forever ago, so I don't see the point in being mad about it now. You're a different person now.”

“Am I?”

He wrapped his hand in her hair and gave it a playful tug. “Yes, you are.”

“Because you say so?”

“Because I know so,” he said, sitting back and combing his fingers through her hair again. She went quiet as he gently tilted her head back a little, gathering her hair and separating it into three pieces. He tucked and twisted the hair down her crown, gathering more handfuls of hair and tucking it in neatly until he had a tightly coiled braid that trailed down her back. He pinched the ends of the braid closed and surveyed his work. “Not bad. I haven't lost my touch. Got a tie?”

She passed him a red leather tie, and when he took it, their fingers brushed, sending a thrill through his body and down into his toes. He swallowed as he wrapped the leather around her braid and tied it off.

Azula ran her hand down her hair, feeling the braid against her scalp and down her back. “Fancy.”

He threaded his arms around her waist and rested his chin on her shoulder. “You can shoot lightning out of your fingertips and I can braid hair. We all have our skills.”

“Thank you.”

“My pleasure, Princess,” he said as she leaned back against his chest, her hands covering his on her stomach. She seemed perfectly content to sit there with him, and some of the distance that he'd been feeling between them seemed to disappear. It was enough to just be close to one another, basking in the warm sunlight, watching the flowers dancing in the grasses.

“It's the Spring Moon tonight,” Azula mused after a while, her head tucked back against his shoulder. His brow furrowed as he turned his face toward hers, his cheek resting against hers.

“What's that?”

It was Azula's turn to look confused. “You don't celebrate the Spring Moon in the Southern Water Tribe?”

“I don't think so. We don't really have spring in the south pole. We have 'shit it's so fucking cold I might die' season, followed by 'really fucking cold' season, then 'still fucking cold but at least the sun is shining' season, and then finally, 'I'm freezing my fucking nuts off' season, which is my personal fave.”

Azula laughed, her hand lifting to her mouth. “You sound like you hate it there.”

“I don't, actually. I love it. The way the sunlight hits the snow... It looks like diamond dust. Everything sparkles. There's a thousand shades of blue in the ice, in the snow, in the sky, the water. And other colors too. The snow is pink and purple and gray and yellow and orange, depending on the light. The southern skies light up at night with all these colors. They say those are the spirits dancing. I don't know about that, but it's beautiful. And the stars! So many stars... It's like someone spilled salt in the sky. It's amazing.”

Azula had turned to look into his eyes as he'd talked, a little smile on her lips as she listened. “You make it sound so beautiful.”

“It is. You've never been?” She shook her head and he shrugged. “You'd love it. But, you know...I like Fire Nation, too. It's a different kind of beauty. And I like not freezing my nuts off,” he said, gesturing to the flowers and the warm sunlight slanting through the trees around the meadow. “So tell me about the Spring Moon.”

Azula settled back on his chest. “It's a silly peasant tradition. My father didn't celebrate it. He said it was beneath the Royal Family, but my mother didn't care. She celebrated it every year, and she took Zuko and I with her to the festival in the city. She probably still celebrates it, actually...” A touch of sadness flavored her voice at that, but she breathed in sharply and moved on. “Every year on the second full moon of Spring, the people celebrate by lighting bonfires. It's meant to symbolize letting go of your past regrets or something. Then they have a feast, and there's dancing, fireworks... There's always quite a lot of drinking involved. And... _other_ activities...”

“I bet I know what those are,” he said, amusement and heat flavoring his voice as his pinky hooked around hers and tugged a little. She breathed in and glanced at him with heat in her eyes, and he felt a tug in his groin.

“I'll bet you do.”

His smile was slow and sly as he chuckled. “And here I thought the Fire Nation was all stuffy and weird.”

“Mind you, we are,” she sniffed, but he could sense her smile. “But we're not so different from the Earth Kingdom, when it comes right down to it. They have their own spring celebration called Second Moon and it's not dissimilar from our festival, although they don't light bonfires, everyone sleeps outside for some reason, and there's something to do with badgermoles that I've never quite figured out.”

“I'll have to ask Toph about that,” he said with another laugh. “I kind of like the idea of celebrating spring, though. And any celebration of the moon is okay with me.”

Azula took a breath and glanced at him. “Because of your Moon Princess?”

His brow lifted. “You know about Yue?”

“I've heard the story,” she said carefully, and then licked her lips. “Did she really turn into the moon?”

“Well, the Moon Spirit,” Sokka said, and his throat clenched up tightly, as it always did when he thought of Yue. “She sacrificed herself to save the world. I'm still in awe of her.”

“You were in love with her,” Azula said, and there was something soft in her voice. More sad than questioning. Perhaps a little wistful.

“Completely. I never stood a chance, and in more ways than one,” he said and there was an echo of pain in his chest that he was sure would never go away. He didn't know if he even wanted it to. “I'm probably still a little in love with her, to be honest. Maybe it's because she died. Or...I don't know, maybe a part of you is always in love with your first love, no matter how many relationships you have after that, or how deeply you fall in love with someone else. They're always _there._ Because they were the first.”

“I wouldn't know. I've never been in love. I don't think I can.”

His breath caught in his throat as he reached up and gently turned Azula's head so that he could look into her eyes. “That's not true, Azula.”

“There are people who can't fall in love, Sokka. They just don't feel that feeling.”

“And because _you_ never have you think it's because you can't?” he said, and then shook his head. “I don't believe that for a second.”

“I don't need you to believe it. It's what I know,” she said resolutely.

“Sometimes we tell ourselves things we think we want to hear, because that's easier than facing the truth,” he said, as she tugged on her lip with her teeth.

“Nothing about my life is easy, Sokka. Surely you've noticed by now?” she said gently, touching on the one topic they had been avoiding since Rian's attack. He hadn't pushed her to talk about it since then. She had seemed too raw about it, and he knew that if she wanted to talk, she knew that he would listen. He'd told her so several times. It was enough for now, that she had finally said the words out loud. He had already known, but that didn't matter.

“I've noticed,” he said with a humorless laugh. “If I could take that all away from you, I would.”

“I don't want to talk about that. I want to do anything else but talk about that, Sokka,” she said firmly and turned her head away from him. He rested his chin on her shoulder again.

“Well, we have nothing to do until Baz contacts us again, and he said it would take about a week to gather the plans for our next blow-shit-up mission or whatever they have us doing. We're free for a week. There's only so many times I can sharpen my sword.”

Not that Sokka wasn't grateful for the time off. Baz had certainly been keeping them busy since he'd taken over directing their missions. They had just destroyed their fifth weapon's depot in as many weeks. Baz had been sending them all over the Fire Nation, targeting the depots.

Sokka was beginning to think that the Smoke Demons were gearing up for something. Something big. He had no idea what that was, but he didn't like it at all and a week off was just going to give him time to worry about things he couldn't stop or change, so he was almost desperate for something to distract him for a while.

“I want to get drunk and light a fire,” Azula said with a firm decisiveness in her voice that surprised him as much as her declaration.

“What?” he laughed, brow furrowing.

“It's Spring Moon. Let's celebrate,” she said and the smile she gave him with just a touch sharp. He shrugged and grasped the end of her braid, playfully tugging on it again.

“Whatever you want, my Princess,” he said and kissed her cheek.


	30. Twenty-Nine

****Sokka's face was under lit by reds and oranges and yellows, shadows moving across the hollows of his face and nesting in the corners of his eyes. He wasn't staring into the flames, but across them, right at her. There was a half-smile cocked on his lips. In the firelight his dark skin looked smooth and delicious.

Azula clenched her fists and tried to force her mind back on the bonfire burning between them. It spat out sparks, embers floating around their faces as the dry wood popped and crackled.

“I'm not sure I feel cleansed, but I'm definitely feeling pretty toasty right now,” Sokka said, put his hands over the fire to warm them. “This was a good idea. So what now?”

“There's usually music and dancing.”

“I don't dance, but I could sing, if you want.”

She snorted. “Please don't, I hear you in the shower enough as it is. When you're not doing other things in there.”

Sokka looked a little stunned at that, but he cleared his throat. “What happens in the shower, stays in the shower. I've heard you a few times, too, Princess.”

She bit down on her lower lip and felt herself flush. “I haven't been loud!”

Sokka's grin was obscene, his face lighting up. He held up his hands. “Wow! I was totally bluffing! I didn't hear anything!”

“Oh, shut up!” she said, her whole body on fire.

“Azula masturbates in the shower...” Sokka said in a sing-song voice.

“So do you!”

“The soap is a slippery little minx, I'm only human,” Sokka said, one hand on his chest, a look of dignity on his face. She laughed and covered her mouth.

“I love it when you do that,” Sokka said, his voice dropping an octave, a husky rasp to his voice that sparked a blaze in her chest. He reached out and touched swept a strand of her hair back behind her ear.

“Do what?” she said breathlessly.

“Laugh,” he said warmly. “You have an amazing laugh.”

“And that is a very laughable line,” she said with a roll of her eyes.

“It's not a line. I mean it.”

“Are you flirting with me?” she asked lightly.

“Depends. Do you want me to?”

She looked up and it was a mistake. She could see his heart in his eyes, his emotions written plainly in the blue glitter, intensified by the reflection of the flames. She knew exactly what he was feeling, because she felt the same way, and it was like a punch in the guts.

“I...,” she started, hesitating, her mind was screaming at her to tell him no. To push him away like she had been attempting to do ever since Rian's attack.

Her revelation on the deck of that ship, his taste on her lips, had not been wrong. She was in love with him.

Deeply. Painfully. With every bit of her heart, her soul, her body. It crippled her, the weight of the love she felt for the man in front of her, holding her hand as if she were made of glass, with that heated look in his soft eyes, and that quirk to his full lips that made her want to sink against him and drink the heat from his mouth, to give in to something she had never known she could feel.

She had been wrestling with the feeling for so long, afraid to feel it, talking herself out of it, pushing him away because of it. She had no idea how to love him. She wasn't sure she had ever really loved anyone before him.

She knew in her aching heart that he felt the same way. Some part of Sokka had fallen in love with her...and yet knowing that didn't make her happy. Somehow it just made her feel sad, and as lonely as she had ever been. He still loved Suki, he had told her that he did, and she was afraid, deep in her marrow, of finding out whom he loved more. She thought she already knew that answer.

When it came down to it, he wouldn't choose her and she knew that. He had been with Suki for so long, what chance did she have against that? He loved her now, because she was here and Suki was not, but once things changed, once this was all over, for better or worse...he would choose the woman he really loved, and it would not be her.

It would also hurt him to hurt her, and she knew that, but he would still make his choice.

She swallowed the wellspring of feeling, pushing it down as she had for so long, trying to hide it, to convince herself that she felt nothing. That she was that broken toy she had always imagined. It would be easier if she did, on both of them. He'd be grateful, wouldn't he, if she pretended she couldn't love him. That she was empty inside. He wouldn't agonize over breaking her heart if he thought she felt nothing. If he only thought their brief kisses had been about attraction and not love so deep and terrifying that she wanted to run from it as much as she wanted to embrace it.

Yes, it would be best if she pretended. If she pushed him away.

It was impossible though, when he was looking at her like that, admitting unabashedly that he was flirting with her. It made her resolve crumble like ashes. It made her want to fling herself at him, and damn the consequences.

“It's working...and you should stop doing it,” she said, closing her eyes and feeling his heart beating beneath her palm as she placed it over his heart.

He let out a dark, slow, seductive laugh that made shivers run up and down her spine. “Why should I?”

Her eyes flew open at that. “You know why!”

“Okay...yeah, I do.” At her look, he laughed again, ruefully and with a touch of bitterness there. “I promised I would stop, I know. It's complicated, though.”

“What's complicated about it?” she said, pulling her hand away. Her skin felt too warm, a sweat starting in the middle of her back. The night was chilly, the spring moon a huge yellow orb slung low against a velvety black sky, but the bonfire burning before them was too warm, too close.

“It's complicated because I really want to kiss you again and...”

“You have a girlfriend. You're supposed to be feeling regret, Sokka.”

“I've not been feeling regret though.”

“What have you been feeling?”

Sokka's smile was slow and simmering and it did things to her. Things she hadn't even been aware that her body could feel. A low tingle started in her groin and spread like a wildfire, tightening her nipples, wetting her mouth, shortening her breath.

“If I answered that we'd both be in trouble.”

A wave of desperate want went through her and she let it wash over her like a hot wave of pleasure so intense she felt it center in the bundle of nerves between her legs, making it throb in time to her racing heartbeat.

This was not the way to go about pretending she wasn't in love with him. Not at all.

She glanced at the bonfire and flushed. “This was stupid. I shouldn't have... I'm making things between us worse and I was only trying to...to...”

“Push me away? Don't think I haven't noticed.”

“It's what's best for both of us. I... Can we please drop this?” she said, trying to turn away, but he caught her by the waist, his big, rough hands that could be so gentle with her spreading, holding her in place. His constant mother henning at meal times had put weight on her frame over the last few months, filling her body out again. She would never tell him so, but she liked the weight. It made her feel healthier, stronger, more like a woman and less like that skinny wraith who had thrown up every agonizing mile to Ba Sing Se, trailing tears and heartache behind her.

“You really want to know what I regret, Azula?” She stopped, her heart in her throat, as Sokka stepped closer. His eyes glimmered as he leaned in.

“I think I already do,” she said, staring at his mouth.

“I'll bet you do.”

“I... I think I need a drink.” Her face was hot, a blush creeping up her skin that she hoped the light of the bonfire would disguise, but she knew he had seen it. She slipped out of his hands and walked back to the porch of the cabin, sitting down with a hard thump. There were several bottles of wine sitting there. She grabbed one and pushed the cork out, taking a long, deep drink. It was a heady red, sweet and cloying.

She tried not to look at Sokka's silhouette against the bonfire as she drank down half of the bottle. It immediately went to her head and when she lowered it, she felt the rush of blood in her face.

“You weren't kidding about getting drunk, huh?”

“Nope,” she said and took another drink.

Sokka came over and leaned against one of the pillars holding up the sagging porch's roof. His lips quirked with amusement as he looked down at her, his arms crossing over his chest. She could see his fake tattoos, stark black in the light in the fire. They had just redyed them the day before.

It had taken all of her strength not to climb into his lap when he'd sat there with his shirt off. She felt warm again, a flash of heat that had nothing to do with the bonfire or the wine now making her head swim with a delightful floating feeling.

“Good thing I got a couple of bottles then,” he said, reaching for one of them. He uncorked it and took a drink. “This is probably a bad idea.”

 _So is me being totally in love with you._ _So is_ _you flirting with me, all but telling me you want to sleep with me_ _, but here we are,_ she thought as she took another drink. Her heart squeezed tightly in her chest.

She had to stop thinking about him. Had to pretend she wasn't in love with him. Had to make him believe that he didn't feel anything for her either.

It was an impossible task. So she opted to get drunk instead.

“You're Master of Stealth...I'm the Master of Bad Decisions,” she said, tossing him a grin that felt forced. He returned it though, with interest, dropping down beside her. “You haven't been drunk in a while, have you?”

His mouth opened for a moment and then he cleared his throat. He rolled the bottle between his hands and studied the label. “Not since that fight in Gei. You were right... I was drowning my sorrows in booze and it wasn't helping. I felt pretty sorry for myself.”

“And you don't now?”

“No, I still do,” he said with a husky laugh. “I definitely still do, just for different reasons.”

“Maybe you shouldn't drink,” she said, reaching for his bottle, but he pulled it away from her grasp.

“It's Spring Moon, I'm getting absolutely wasted,” he said with a laugh and then took a deep drink. She laughed and shook her head, but when she lifted her bottle, he reached out and put his hand over the mouth, stopping her. “No more for either of us until we eat something though, or we're both going to have the worst hangovers in the morning.”

“I bow to your vast experience,” she said, putting her bottle down beside his. He stood up and then held out a hand for her. She took it, and he hauled her to her feet. The sudden change in elevation made her head spin. “Oh...”

She giggled.

She honestly giggled. The sound horrified her the moment it left her, but Sokka's grin made up for it.

“You're already buzzed, you lightweight. Maybe you should slow down?”

“I think we've gone slow enough,” she said and then crammed her knuckles against her mouth, flushing. Sokka's brows lifted.

“I couldn't agree more.”

They gathered up dinner—bread and bowls of some kind of soup that Sokka had thrown together before he'd gone off in search of wine in a village a few miles from the safe house—and took them outside to sit on the porch again. The bonfire burned before them, almost as hot at as the tension building between them. She could feel it, scorching her as Sokka glanced at her out of the corner of his eye.

She should be doing something to stop it. It would only lead to trouble...and it would make it a thousand times harder to hide her feelings from him.

She finished her soup and a hunk of herb and cheese bread that Sokka pressed into her hand, and then reached for her wine again. She didn't bother with a glass. Neither did Sokka, as he sat beside her, one hand snaking around her waist. He tipped the bottle back and downed the whole thing in one long chug. She watched his throat working, feeling tingles running down her legs and back into her arms again. Her brows lifted as he lowered the bottle and belched. Off her look, he grinned sheepishly.

“You're impressed, admit it.”

“I'm disgusted,” she laughed, taking another drink. She was feeling very warm and very floaty...and incredibly loosened up. Drinking had definitely been a mistake. She'd wanted to forget her feelings for him for a night, but the wine was just amplifying them. She really was the master of bad decisions.

“You love me,” he said, bumping his shoulder with hers. Her face flamed, a strawberry red flush breaking out on her chest. He didn't seem to notice her reaction as he reached for another bottle of wine. “This feels good, you know? I've been so keyed up lately. I think every single muscle in my body has been tensed for months. Feels good to decompress...even for a night...”

“I've been pretty tense too. I've heard that getting drunk is great for relieving stress.”

“I know a better way,” Sokka said lightly, not looking at her. He tipped the bottle back.

“We're not having a fist fight,” she snorted. “Unless you piss me off.”

Sokka glanced at her, the corners of his lips tilting up. “I wasn't talking about fighting.” He took another drink.

“I know you weren't, but we both know it's better if we keep pretending we don't want to fuck each other.” Sokka spat out a mouthful of wine while she clapped her hand over her lips. “I wasn't supposed to say that.”

Sokka coughed and then laughed a little, dropping his head. “It's true though. What's the point in beating around the bush? I want you, and you want me and we both know it.”

“And we're not going to do a damned thing about it,” she said, clinking her bottle against his.

“Right,” he said bitterly, and he sounded miserable. “Because that would be...wrong.”

Her heart raced, sparked into galloping so hard she could hear it beating in her ears. “You have a girlfriend.”

He laughed ruefully. “I'm not even sure that's true anymore. You honestly think Suki still wants me, after eight months of silence? We're definitely gonna break up.”

“Maybe you're _going to_ , but you're not broken up yet and you don't want to be That Guy, remember? So stop flirting with me.”

“That Guy...is surprisingly easy to sympathize with at the moment,” Sokka mumbled, ignoring her command completely. “When the most beautiful woman in the world is lying beside you every night... Well, nothing else seems to matter.”

“You think I'm beautiful?”

“I always have. I thought you were gorgeous the first time I saw you. I mean, you scared the shit out of me too, but yeah... Gorgeous doesn't cover it, Azula. It hurts to look at you sometimes.”

“I notice you looking a lot, though.”

He pulled a smirking smile. “You look a lot too. Every time I take my shirt off I'm always half-convinced you're going to straddle me. I keep waiting for you to do it. Hoping you'll do it...because I'm not allowed to make a move on you. But if _you_ did it...well, that's different.”

She blushed red, thinking of the day before, when she'd redone his fake tattoos. He had known all along that what she'd been thinking, the compulsion that always filled her.

“How is that different?”

His laugh was tired. “I think I just don't want to take responsibility for my actions. If you kissed me first, then I'd know that's something you wanted to do, not something I made you do. Not that I think I can make you do something you don't want to do...I'm just afraid that I could. And... Azula, you've been hurt before. I don't ever want to hurt you.”

She nibbled on her bottom lip and lifted her hand to cover her mouth. “Sokka...when you touch me, I'm not afraid that you'll hurt me. I know you won't. I trust you.”

Sokka smiled, tight-lipped and rubbed at the back of his neck. “If things were different...if I wasn't with Suki...”

“But you are. There's nothing we can do about it, so we just have to bury our feelings and move on,” she said firmly, as if her heart wasn't trying to rip itself to pieces in her chest. “I'm... I'm tired. And drunk. I'm going to bed.”

She bolted up, dropping her half-empty bottle of wine into the grass and waving a hand at the bonfire. It went out with a fizzle. She had to get away from him, before she did something stupid, like tell him she was in love with him. Or before he said the same thing...which would be even worse, because then she'd kiss him again, and she wouldn't stop. Nothing in the world would be able to stop her.

She left him sitting on the porch, marching into the cabin and throwing on her nightgown with trembling hands. Everything had a warm glow about it and her head was spinning. Drinking had definitely been a mistake. What had she been thinking?

She climbed into the narrow bed against the wall and pulled the covers over her, rolling so that her face was a few inches from the wall. It wasn't long before she heard Sokka's boots on the floor, the door closing behind him. He moved around in the front room for a while, and when he opened the door and came inside the bedroom, she felt her heart skip a beat.

She didn't say anything when he lifted the covers and scooted in beside her, the old mattress groaning under his weight. He rolled until his chest was against her back, his breath hot on her neck. One hand slipped around her waist, and she felt him pull her back against him, until they were as snug as puzzle pieces.

“I'm sorry,” he said softly, his voice warm and soft from the wine. He smelled like the bonfire; of woodsmoke and flowers and his own heady musk that drove her wild. “For flirting with you.”

“I was flirting with you too.”

“I can't help how I feel,” he said with a touch of helplessness in his voice. “I'm trying to, but it's like trying to contain a waterfall in a thimble...or some other metaphor that makes sense. And I feel like a complete pile of shit because I know I should feel bad about flirting with you. That it makes me That Guy, but I don't feel bad at all. I should. And I don't.”

“You told me once that cheating wasn't always physical... It's about what's in your heart...” she said slowly, half-turning to face him in the darkness.

Sokka's eyes glittered in the darkness. “Then I cheated long before I ever kissed you, Azula.”

He sat up on his elbow, the hand on her hip rolling her back against his body. Sokka hovered over her for a moment, staring at her in the darkness. Her heart raced, galloping toward some unknown horizon. Her body came alive at his nearness, at the fire burning between them.

His hand on her hip trailed up her stomach, catching on her shirt and slipping underneath to gently skim against her skin. She hitched in a breath at the slight contact, but even that was enough to ignite her completely.

“Tell me to stop and I will. I'll leave and sleep in the other room, and I'll go back to pretending. I'll do whatever you want me to do,” Sokka said, his voice small and low. He was breathing hard.

“Don't,” she said, and he sucked in a breath, moving to withdraw his hand. She caught his wrist, stopping him from pulling away. “No...don't stop...”

And she sat up, her mouth slamming to his.


	31. Thirty

****Sokka growled in his throat as Azula surged against him, her mouth slamming into his so hard their teeth clicked together. He didn't care. He was beyond caring about anything but the woman in his arms.

His hand caught her face, pulling her toward him as he angled his head to draw his mouth across hers, hot and tight and hungry. She made a noise in her throat—a mewling purr that tightening his groin, sending a flood of desire through him that couldn't be contained. Couldn't be stopped.

He wanted this. Had wanted this for so long...

She tasted like wine and cherries and he was drunk on her. So drunk his head spun. Azula twisted in place, lifting up on her knees and throwing one leg over his lap. He practically yanked her down across him, one arm around her waist as he pushed the blankets aside.

She gasped and then huffed out a laugh against his lips, her hands sliding into his hair. He wanted to do the same thing to her, but her hair was still braided tightly down her back. Instead he wrapped the thick coil of her braid around his fist in a possessive clench.

She didn't seem to mind, her body settling on his lap, warm and soft. Her hips rolled across his crotch and he felt his cock twitch, swelling in an instant toward the heat of her. A groan left him as he slid his hand beneath the back of her shirt, and up her spine.

His pulse was racing. The sound of her soft gasps against his mouth as he pulled back for a split second was painfully erotic; it shot adrenaline to his limbs, desire overwhelming like the crest of a tsunami.

How had he been able to sleep beside her for so long? He'd been so careful not to touch her like this, paranoid about her feeling how much he wanted her...

He wasn't being careful now. Azula's hips ground against his own as she straddled him, her hand pushing his shirt open, sliding down his chest with a scrape of her nails. He had the feeling she had been dying to run her hands all over him; he had seen her looking at him too many times to count, had seen the hunger in her honey eyes.

Well, he knew exactly how she felt, because he was just as ravenous for her. His tongue slipped between her lips and swirled against hers. It was a messy kiss, wild and untamed and touched by fire.

His hand untwisted from her braid and spread down on her back, catching her hips in both hands. He spread his fingers, digging in, moving her across his lap in short jerks that brought her breasts against his chest. The friction of his pants against his hard flesh was enough to undo him.

He gasped and tipped his head back, pleasure surging up and down his spine. Azula's mouth trailed to his neck, and she sank her teeth into the stubbled flesh there, her arm wrapping tightly around his shoulders. Her other hand pushed between them and skimmed against the bulge in his pants.

He was surprised at her boldness, so much so that he let out short laugh.

She pulled back from his neck and stared at him in the darkness, breathing hard, her hand stilling between them instantly. “What? Did I hurt you?”

“No, you just surprised me,” he said nuzzling her lips. “I didn't think you would...just go for it, I guess.”

“Sokka, you've been poking me in the ass with it for months. Your penis and I already fairly well-acquainted by now.”

His face flushed even more, if that were possible. “I tried really hard not to do that, I swear.”

“And I promise I tried really hard not rub against it just so I could hear you make that stupid little moan in your sleep.”

His eyes widened, a grin spreading across his face. “You should have woken me up...”

“The thought crossed my mind a few times.”

“Well, I'm awake now...” he said thickly and caught her mouth with his own. She laughed and her tongue darted out, flicking against his lips before pressing her mouth against his in a heated kiss that started out playful and ended in another hot, wild clench that made his head spin.

Maybe it was the wine, but he doubted it. It was Azula.

He gathered her in his arms, pulling her body against his, hard, clenching, his hands digging into her flesh. Azula hummed into his kiss, her whole body alive with need.

He shifted beneath her, cradling her against his body. When he got to his knees, she wrapped her legs around his hips, clinging tightly to him. He twisted to the side, pushing her back down on the bed beneath him. She gasped against his lips as his weight settled between her thighs, pinning her there as he pressed against the warm cleft of her body. Heat rose into his face, and pooled in the small of his back as his hips ground forward of their own accord.

Her kiss was slowly, sensual, her tongue playing over his with a tease that made him press harder, hating every layer between her body and his. He wanted her. He wanted to make love to her, to feel her body tremble beneath his as he took her, again and again...

His hand drifted up her hip and cupped her breast with a squeeze that made Azula gasp and buck into him. His mouth trailed kisses along her jaw, his stubble scraping her soft skin. Her breathing picked up, her nails digging into his shoulders as he nibbled on her neck in the hollow below her ear. Goosebumps raced along her skin and she tightened her thighs on his hips. He nibbled the same place again and her whole body seemed to tremble beneath his.

“Sokka...”

“Does that feel good?” he rumbled and suddenly he wanted nothing more than to make her tremble like that again. To feel her body shaking beneath his with just the power of his mouth on her neck.

“Y-yes... I... Ohh...” she trailed off with a moan that was all heat, all woman.

His tongue rasped against that spot again and again, working the sensitive skin as she trembled and gasped. He knew exactly what he was doing to her. Her nails dug into his shoulders, her body bowing. Her breath was a stutter across her lips.

When her hand sunk into his hair, he realized how close she was to coming and he felt an indecent amount of pride as he nibbled that sensitive spot on her neck even harder. He sucked on her skin, his teeth scraping at the hollow below her ear. Shivers burst over her and she lifted into him.

Her hand tightened in his hair with a painful clench, her hips working up and down against his, faster and faster, tighter. He could feel the wetness of her, soaking through her panties, wetting the front of his pants as he ground against her, the friction enough to break him completely.

“I'm... I'm...” Azula panted, a note of disbelief in her voice as she lifted into his body. He thrust against her, hard, his mouth humming on her neck, gathering her flesh, working the sensitive nerve until she let out a startled cry. Her warm, supple body stiffened beneath his and she came, shuddering, her breath a shivery rasp as he grinned against her neck.

He released her with one last lick of the reddened, purpling flesh, feeling inordinately pleased with himself as he kissed his way back to her mouth. When he kissed her, she was as limp as a rag doll, but she came alive again, lifting her head to chase his tongue with her own.

When he finally pulled back, he grinned down at her. Her honey eyes were glittering, soft and satisfied. She touched his lips with her fingertips. “I... I didn't know my neck was so sensitive... No one's ever... I didn't know I could do that from...from _that_...”

She blushed, as if embarrassed, but he grinned at her in the light of the moon through the window.

“You're embarrassed? Don't be. Watching you come like that was the hottest thing I've ever seen. Or done,” he said, and he rolled his hips against her again. She hitched in a breath and lifted up to catch his mouth.

He fired a slow, sensual kiss across her lips, even as his hands slid beneath her shirt. She didn't stop him, arching into his hand like a cat begging to be petted. He'd had the thought that Azula was touch-starved before; years of avoiding touching anyone due to her trauma, and the resultant panic attacks when she did, even accidentally, had created a deep, unspoken hunger for connection.

Somewhere along the way she had stopped being afraid of his touch. She had started responding to it with increasing need, and he had noticed...and he had started touching her more and more. He had _wanted_ to touch her, but he had also known she'd needed it.

Now she needed something else...more than just his hand on hers...his arm around her waist... She needed _more_ and he wanted nothing more than to give her whatever she wanted. What they both wanted.

He released her mouth with a ragged moan, kissing down her throat. Azula's back bowed, and she gasped as he dragged his face between her breasts. He lifted her thin red shirt up; she wasn't wearing any thing beneath the shirt, and the soft white slopes of her breasts glowed in the moonlight. He caught one of her nipples between his lips and rolled it, making her gasp and shiver, her hands digging into his hair, pushing his face against her.

He sucked at her nipple, groaning, his hands on her hips again. His fingers slipped down her bared stomach and landed on the waistband of her pants. He jerked on them, yanking harder than he'd meant to, though he only slid her pants about half-way down her hips with the motion.

Azula's hand slammed into his shoulders, her breath hitching. He immediately froze, so attuned to her that he knew instinctively that something was suddenly wrong. That he had done something wrong.

“Azula?” His voice was a rough rasp as he lifted his head from her breast, startled question in his voice.

“I...” she started and then squeezed her eyes shut. “I'm okay... I'm okay... I'm okay...”

“No, you're not,” he said, immediately sitting back on his heels. He pulled her shirt down as he went, his hands shaking as he did so. Azula caught his hand as he withdrew it, clinging to it hard. They stared at one another in the soft, forgiving light of the spring moon. “What did I do?”

But Azula just shook her head and then with an inhale that shook, she burst into tears, knocking his hand away from her and rolling to face the wall.

“I can't,” she gasped, her face shoved into the pillow.

Sokka stared at her, wanting to reach for her, to hold her, but afraid that even the barest touch of his hand would make everything that much worse.

“It's all right, Azula,” he said, even though he didn't know if it was all right. He didn't know anything. “Did you see...?” His throat closed. “Was it...what happened? Did you have a flashback?”

Azula sat up, pushing herself into the corner of the bed, the wall at her back like a wary animal. She was trembling all over, tears glistening on her face as she drew her knees up to her chest.

“It wasn't real.”

His brow furrowed. “What wasn't real?”

“I could taste dirt in my mouth,” she whispered. “For a moment... It was like I was back there again... And when you pulled at my pants, I... You weren't _you_ all of a sudden... You were them, and I was there and I... But it wasn't real. It's never real.” She thumped her head against the wall, and made an angry sound that was mostly a strangled sob. “Why am I so fucked up? I want you and I can't even... I can't even let you touch me...”

“I understand, Azula.”

“Well, I don't!” she bit, swiping at her face. “I don't fucking understand! I thought...I thought I was getting better! I thought...I thought if I could feel the things I feel for you then that meant I wasn't really broken, that I... But I _am!_ I'm broken! I don't want to be broken and I'm broken...”

“You are not broken, Azula!”

“Broken... I'm broken...” she sobbed and he could see the panic attack swooping in on her, crowding out her sense of self, overcoming her in an instant. When she lifted her hands, raking her nails down her face, he jumped forward, grasping her wrists to stop her.

She fought him, panicking completely. A scream split from her mouth and she twisted away from him. Her elbow connected with his throat and he choked, the air whooshing out of him. He let go of her hands, coughing as she scrambled away from him and across the little room. She put the wall at her back again, breathing in great gulps.

It took him a moment to catch his breath. His throat was on fire, his eyes watering as he looked at Azula. She slowly slid down the wall, her nails digging into her face. Sokka got up and slowly walked over to her, sinking to the floor in front of her. He didn't touch her. He didn't say anything for a long time, watching her cry and shake her way through the panic attack.

Finally, when her sobs had faded to hiccups, he said gently, “What's real, Azula?”

She looked up, startled, as if she hadn't seen him sitting there the whole time. Confusion darkened her eyes. “Sokka?”

“What's real?”

“I don't know.”

He reached out, his hand hovering over hers. She watched him carefully, but didn't try to stop him when he gently took her hand. When he lifted it and pressed her palm against his heart, her mouth opened.

“What's real?”

“You,” she breathed. “You're real.”

“That's right, my Princess. I'm real. You're real.”

“I'm real...” she whispered in answer and then closed her eyes, as if coming back to herself. When she opened them again, there was sorrow there. “I got lost again.”

His smile was soft and sad. “Lucky for me, I always know how to find you.”

She wiped at the tears on her face and then surged forward, climbing into his lap and shoving her face into the join of his neck. He wrapped his arm around her and held her as tightly as he dared.

“I'm sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry about,” he said as he rubbed her back. “I pushed you.”

“You didn't. I wanted to. I still want to,” she said, pulling back. “I thought...being with you... That it wouldn't remind me of those bastards. But it did. Sokka, I don't want to be like this. I don't want to be sick anymore. I don't want to be afraid anymore. I want to be in control and I'm not.”

She sounded so tired, so broken, that all he could do was wrap his arms around her even tighter and hold her against him. She cried into his shoulder and he stroked her hair, his own hands shaking. He felt sick to his stomach. He didn't know what to do for her.

He had forgotten for a moment how bad things could be. She hadn't had a panic attack in weeks. He had always been able to head them off. Her nightmares had persisted, but they hadn't been any worse than usual and he could usually soothe her back to sleep. She hadn't been harming herself; they'd found that putting a hot spoon dipped in boiling water for a few seconds eased her need for pain whenever she was losing control. He made sure that he spoon wasn't hot enough to burn her, testing it on his own arm before ever letting it near her. It didn't even leave a mark.

It wasn't a solution, but it was working for now and it was the best he could do. He was out of his depth though. He knew it. He'd been trying so hard to find ways of talking her down, managing her symptoms as best he could, but it wasn't enough.

And he'd forgotten, completely, the trauma that might rear its head. He had been so focused on his own selfish needs that he had put her into a panic attack.

“I don't know what to do, Azula,” he said heavily. “I don't know how to make this better. I think I'm making it worse and... I think you need to talk to someone about what happened.”

She lifted her head and wiped at her eyes. “You mean like that place where Zuko sent me? The place where they put me in a straight jacket and called me crazy?”

“Azula... Zuko sent you to that place to help you get better. He told me he hated doing it, but...he didn't know how to help you either.”

“I won't go back to that place.”

“Okay, not that place...” he agreed. “Not some place that will put you in a straight jacket, but some place else... There are people who can help, and medications, I think... And there are people who can help you work through this. There was a woman in Republic City, she worked with the police. She helped these women who had been attacked. Maybe I can take you to talk to her?”

“We have a mission, Sokka. We can't go back to Republic City for that. If we leave you know what will happen.”

Zuko's life would be in danger, even more than it already was. Suki would be in danger by association. No, they couldn't abandon the mission at the moment.

“Okay, not right now we can't, but eventually. I want you to get help. You need to talk about what happened to you. To someone who knows how to help.”

“You don't understand... The rape...” she started, as if even saying the word was taking all of her strength. “The rape happened _to_ me, Sokka. I had no control over that. None.”

“I know that, I--”

“I had control over the fire and I didn't stop it. I let it burn... I let everything and everyone in that forest burn, Sokka. I let it all die. I killed people.”

He stilled against her for a moment. Her voice was dead, bleak, monotone. He reached up and cupped her face. “Azula...”

“I just wanted to make them pay for what they did to me. And when the fire spread...I watched it... I just stood there and I watched it... People died. I let them die. I should have died too. I want to die.”

He gripped her face, hard. “Please don't ever say that. Azula... Please... If something happened to you I'd...”

But he couldn't say the words. Azula stared into his eyes.

“I think you're in love with me, Sokka.” He stared at her, unable to deny it. She shook her head and looked away. “You shouldn't. Just leave me, it would be better if you just left me.”

“Never,” he said, wrapping his arms around her again. He tucked his face against her neck. “Never.”

 


	32. Thirty-One

She felt raw, her insides bleeding, aching with pain. Exhaustion clawed at her as she rolled over in the bed, her hand coming up wanting. It took her a moment to remember that Sokka was asleep in the other room, curled up in his sleeping bag. She was alone.

He had decided that was best, that she needed space.

She hadn't wanted space. She had wanted him to hold her, but she was afraid, too. Afraid she would forget who he was. That she would see the faces of those men who had hurt her so long ago.

She was so angry. So tired. She felt rubbed thin, spread too far, torn between reality and madness, and madness was winning.

She didn't understand what had happened, why she had thought about those men when Sokka had done nothing but given her pleasure. She trusted Sokka. She wanted him. She loved him, ached for him, even now...and yet she had still been afraid, cringing from his touch, reminded of things she didn't want to remember.

Sokka had said she wasn't broken, she had even convinced herself of that, for a time, but she knew it wasn't true now.

Perhaps it was a good thing that she had had her panic attack. It had stopped them from sleeping together, something she was sure Sokka would eventually be grateful for, when he came to his senses and realized that loving her wasn't enough. That she wasn't worth his honor or his girlfriend.

Azula sat up and put her back against the wall, her knees to her chest as she stared at the light coming in through the window. She thought of slipping out of the window, taking off across the dew-covered grass and disappearing forever. She'd had the thought on and off since Rian's attack.

It would be best, wouldn't it? If she was just gone. Better for him. Better for her. Better for everyone.

She couldn't make herself move. Anger seethed in her chest. She was so tired of being sick and unsure of herself. She could still remember the girl she had been so long ago, so confident that she had only to walk into a room and people bowed to her. She had been terrifying. A force to be reckoned with.

Now... Now she was afraid of her own mind. Too afraid to love anyone or anything. Full of guilt and regret and phantoms. Her sense of self had shattered so long ago, what was left? Pieces too small to retrieve, dust ground into grit.

She wanted to give up. She wanted to stop fighting. She would always remember those men's hands on her, their laughter. She would always remember the flames in the Green Heart. These things would haunt her until she was a ghost herself.

 _I don't want to be like this,_ she thought, tucking her face into her arms, her forehead against her knees. No, she wanted to feel the way Sokka made her feel all of the time. Like she had hope. Like she was okay. Like she wasn't a monster.

Sokka was right. She needed help.

* * *

 

Sokka stared at the bedroom door for a long while, his limbs aching from the need to get up and go over to it, to press his ear against the door just to hear Azula's soft breathing. He was far too aware of her in there, his body so attuned to hers that it was like his heart was beating from another room.

He could still taste her on his lips, the faintest trace of cherries and wine that was fading as the day wore on, bright and warm beyond the door. Around noon, he went out into the meadow, passing the blackened remains of their bonfire, and gathered up armfuls of rudbeckia, red peonies, and hazy purple lavender.

He sat down on the edge of the porch and wove flowers into crowns, necklaces, bracelets, bouquets. Mostly just to keep his hands busy. The birds sang in the trees around him, sweet and high and lovely. When he was nearly done tying a bouquet together, he heard a soft footfall on the worn boards behind him. Half-turning, he saw Azula's bare foot out of the corner of his eye.

She stood in the doorway behind him for one long moment, and then came out, sitting down on the edge of the porch with all of the grace of a swan. Their gazes met for a moment. He wanted to put his arm around her, but the night before was still between them, and the pinched pain at the corners of her eyes kept him at bay.

“Those are pretty.”

“I...uh...made them for you,” he said shyly. “To say I'm sorry. About last night.”

Azula looked down at her hands. “You didn't do anything wrong, Sokka.”

He shrugged and tied off the long piece of grass he had used to bind the bouquet. “Yes, I did. I was selfish and I was thinking with a very stupid part of my anatomy.”

“I was too...but I didn't do anything I didn't want to do, so don't think you talked me into it or something. I knew what I was doing.”

“I know...and so did I,” he said heavily. “I don't want to cheat on Suki, but I would have. I still want to, and that's wrong and I'm... Well, it's a fucked up situation and I made it worse.”

“We both did. We just can't do it again.”

“Yeah. That's for the best. For a lot of reasons,” he said grimly. He handed her the bouquet, but she hesitated before taking them. When she did, a knot in his chest unfurled a little. She held the flowers up to her nose, her eyes closing as she inhaled the lavender. A soft smile crossed her lips. When she opened her eyes, the smile faded, sadness lurking in her expression.

“Thank you.”

“My pleasure, my Princess,” he said, taking up a flower necklace and twisting it in his hands, just to keep them busy. “I've been doing some thinking.”

“Oh?”

“When this is all over and done with...I want you to come back to Republic City with me.”

Her eyebrows lifted at that. “And talk to your police friend?”

“She's a doctor. She just works with the police sometimes. Maybe she can help.”

“Maybe,” she said, lifting the bouquet again and smelling a peony. “But what happens when your girlfriend comes to visit? Do we all just sleep in the bed together?”

“Uh...” He looked at her in shock, but relaxed when he saw the grin playing on her lips. She laughed, pushing her hand against her mouth as she saw the expression on his face.

“Spirits, you should see the look on your face!” Azula laughed. “Like an animal caught in torchlight.”

He laughed a little, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Well, the mental image... I haven't really thought out the details...”

“Obviously,” she drawled, chewing on her lip. After a long moment she said, “Sokka... After this...when this is all over, I'm leaving. I'm not going to Republic City.”

He felt pain shoot across his heart. “What? What do you mean?”

She looked down at the flowers in her hands. “Just leave it, Sokka. Leave this where it is. Leave last night where it is. Lie to your girlfriend if you have to, just...pretend none of it ever happened.”

“I'm not going to do that.”

“Then what are you going to do? You don't even know.”

“Azula, I think I--”

She reached forward, putting her hand over his mouth. “Whatever you were just about to say, don't.”

“You already know. You said it last night,” he said as she lowered her hand.

“And I told you to leave last night where it is. You're confused. You'll get over it. And so will I.”

“So you do--”

“I told you I don't. I can't,” she said, refusing to meet his eye. “I'm too fucked up to feel anything...even if I did.”

“That's not true.”

“It's true enough,” she said, standing with a finality that struck him right in the chest. “Thank you for the flowers. And for...trying... That means a lot to me.”

Before he could stop her, she walked away, entering the house. He heard the bedroom door close and slumped forward, rubbing at his forehead, though he didn't have a headache. His ache was centered in his chest, throbbing like an infected tooth.

He wanted to run after her, but what would he say? What would make it better? He had no idea. They'd been circling each other for so long, and it was the same arguments every time. It would better if he ignored his feelings for her and let her drift away when this was all said and done. If he just left last night where it was, buried it down deep and never thought of it.

If he lied to Suki about his feelings for Azula maybe he could live with himself. He doubted it. He already knew that he would tell Suki the truth, no matter the consequences. He may have become That Guy, but he wasn't a liar as well as a cheater. He respected Suki too much for that. It would hurt her, but he owed her the truth.

He could just see that conversation now.

_Oh hey, Suki! Yeah, you know when I disappeared for like a year? Well, I was pretending to be a rapist piece of shit terrorist and Azula was my partner and we did a lot of property damage throughout the Fire Nation—but it was totally for a good cause, because hey, we saved the life of the guy I'm pretty convinced you're in love with, so that's neat. Also Azula and I totally made out a few times and we nearly had sex, and I think I'm in love with her, but like...I totally love you too? But enough about me, how are you? What's new? Did you miss me?_

Yeah. That would go over well.

* * *

 

Baz showed up two days later, strolling through the long grasses like some wizard out of a storybook, out on an adventure, his pipe clenched tightly in his teeth.

“Rinchaka Falls,” Baz said by way of a hello, blowing out a mouthful of fragrant pipe smoke. He pulled a scroll from his sleeve and thrust it at Sokka. “And you'll be having company.”

Azula had come outside when Sokka had called her name. They had been mostly avoiding each other since their conversation on the porch, and he had been sleeping alone on the floor in front of the hearth. He missed sleeping beside her.

He wondered if she missed sleeping beside him too.

She glanced at him as she came outside and stood there with her arms crossed, looking serious. “Company?”

Baz looked at her and nodded, his eyes glinting from beneath his red hood. “Aye. You're to go to Rinchaka Falls, that's over the mountains to the west of here.”

“I know where that's at,” Azula said. “What's in Rinchaka Falls?”

“A weapon's depot. We want it destroyed, just like the others.”

“And our partner? Is it you?”

Baz snorted a little. “I'm no saboteur. I gather information only. No, you'll be meeting with a new recruit to the organization. He's got a reputation for destruction. I believe you may have met on Black Rock a few months ago.”

Azula hitched in a breath and glanced his way as Sokka's jaw tightened. His fist flexed on the scroll, crumpling it flat. “The Fire Bug?”

“Aye.”

“He tried to kill us. Twice!” Azula snapped. “Rian said he wasn't a Smoke Demon.”

“He wasn't. Now he is. You're to work with him on this one.”

“No fucking way,” Sokka growled, stepping down the porch. “That fire mad piece of shit tried to collapse a mine on our heads! I nearly had my head split open! The Fire Bug is a psychopath.”

“As it so happens, I agree with you, Tazeo,” Baz said, spitting on the ground. “But orders are orders. I follow them and so do you. Or else.”

“Or else what?”

“Or else Rian gets a shot at your pretty friend there. For starters.”

“Don't threaten me,” Azula snarled, stepping forward. “If I ever see Rian again, I'll kill him!”

“No doubt,” Baz said, totally unfazed by their anger. He took another pull off of his pipe. “And I'm not making threats. I'm simply stating facts, as you are well aware. The Fire Bug is dangerous, but he's been promised certain rewards for doing our dirty work, and for now he's been compliant.”

“What sort of things has he been doing?” Sokka asked sharply.

“This and that, don't trouble yourself with the details. He's been put to good use,” Baz said mildly. “You're to meet with him in Rinchaka Falls in four days. He'll arrive on the fifth day. You'll meet him by the Falls, that's west of the town itself, at the base of the mountains. The depot is at the northern edge of the town.”

“Our safe house?”

“The details are on the scroll.”

“I don't like this,” Sokka said automatically. “Why are they making us work with the Fire Bug?”

Baz shrugged. “Shit rolls downhill, Tazeo. Just do the damned job.”

And with that, Baz walked away, leaving the both of them glaring at his retreating back. Sokka nearly took off after him, but he knew there was no way to change Baz's mind. It wasn't even Baz's call; he was just the middle man...and infinitely easier to deal with than Rian.

He unsealed the scroll and rolled it out. It contained the same vague details that Baz had given them, plus directions to the next safe house, a barn five miles east of Rinchaka Falls.

“What are they playing at?” he mumbled, glancing up at Azula, who was clutching at her left wrist with one hand, her mouth pinched with pain. That set off alarms in his head, but he pushed his suspicions aside for a moment. “The Fire Bug is too dangerous. Whatever the Smoke Demons have promised him, I doubt its enough to keep him in line.”

“Maybe it is,” she said and then shook her head. “He's probably going to get us killed. I wonder if he knows who we are?”

He blew out a breath at that. He'd forgotten to ask Baz that very thing. “Well, if he knows we're the same people he tried to kill at the mine on Black Rock, then maybe he'll stay the fuck away from us. He's gotta know we'd like to kill him.”

“If he does know, I doubt that'll stop him,” Azula said with a snort. “He likes playing with fire, remember?”

Sokka smacked his fist against the post. “Well, he's going to get burned this time, even if I have to light the fire myself.”

Azula peered at him, her gaze sharp. “Don't put our whole mission in jeopardy just to get back at him. He's not worth it.”

Sokka leaned against the post and crossed his arms over his chest. “And all of the people he's killed? Are they worth it?”

Azula looked down and away. “We just have to do the job, Sokka. We don't have to like it. We just have to pretend. You're Tazeo and I'm desperate to get my throne back. It's all pretend.”

“I hate this,” Sokka said stiffly. “I hate wearing this bastard's life, Azula. I hate that I know what kind of a man Tazeo was. I hate pretending to be him. It makes me feel filthy inside. Like there's a stain on me that will never wash off.”

Azula stepped forward, her hand lightly touching his shoulder. At her touch, a knot in his chest came undone a little. He had missed her touch, the scent of her, the warmth of her hand. He reached up and caught her fingers.

“For what it's worth, I know you're not him. You're nothing like him, Sokka. He was a murderer, and you're not.”

“Yes, I am,” he said tiredly. “I could kill, if I had to. In a fair fight. In self-defense...or in defense of someone else. In battle. I could take a life.”

“Most people would do the same, Sokka,” she said slowly. “But that doesn't make you a murderer. You just want to protect people. You're very different from Tazeo. And the Fire Bug. From Rian...and from me.”

“You're not--” he started, but she pulled away.

“Yes, I am,” she said sadly, wrapping her hand around her wrist again. He let her walk three feet, and then pushed away from the post, stopping her with a hand on her shoulder. He turned her back toward him and reached for her wrist.

“Show it to me,” he said gently.

“What?”

“You cut yourself again.” It wasn't a question. He already knew. Azula's eyes were huge, the sunlight playing in the honey, turning it golden as fear welled up in her expression. Her eyes fluttered closed a moment later, her lashes dark and thick against her cheeks as she pressed her mouth into a thin line.

“I'm okay, don't worry about it.”

“It's not okay, Azula,” he sighed. “I thought we'd agreed on the hot spoon thing, if you felt the need to hurt yourself again? I thought that was working?”

“It was. I just... I wanted to leave a mark,” she said miserably, avoiding his eye. He gently pulled back her sleeve and hissed in sympathy when he saw the neat row of thin cuts on her left forearm. The old scars on her skin were shiny and pink, some thick and wide, others the faintest pale trace, too light to be seen in the dusk.

“Does it hurt?” he asked, running his fingertips over the cuts. They were crusted up, at least a day old. She had treated them with salve at some point.

“Yes.”

“Azula, I don't want you to hurt yourself,” he said heavily, hanging his head and kissing the backs of her fingers. “I know why you feel like you need to, but I don't want you to.”

“I tried not to... I had a nightmare, and...and you weren't there, and it just... It helped. It helped to leave something real. The pain was real, and I needed it.”

“I'm real.”

She pulled her hand away from his grasp. “But you aren't, Sokka. You can't be my only link to reality when I get lost. You won't always be here. I need to find my way out on my own.”

He felt like he had been shocked with a volt of electricity. He stared at her, pain thudding behind his heart. “I know that... I know I can't be there all of the time, but you can't hurt yourself like this, Azula. Please... Please promise me you'll find another way next time.”

Azula met his gaze and there was defiance there for a moment, and then she sagged. “I promise.”

“Good. I believe you. Now...” He took a deep breath and his face hardened. “You can either tell me where that fucking knife is, or I'll march inside and throw everything out of your pack until I find it.”

Her mouth opened in shock. “You wouldn't dare!”

“Fucking try me.”

“Just drop it, Sokka!” she shot at him, marching toward the door, but he reached out and caught her hand again. She swung on him and threw a punch, but he dodged it, catching her hand and spinning her. She struggled, her face ablaze with fury, but he pushed her arm behind her back, stepping forward and shoving her against the gray clapboard siding.

“Let go!” Azula said, her other hand wrapping up in his vest. They were inches apart, anger and electricity sparking between them.

“Give me the knife,” he said calmly, although he didn't feel calm. He was feeling a lot of things, but he wasn't sure he trusted himself to untangle them at the moment. “I won't let you hurt yourself again. I don't care how angry you get. Hit me, hate me, call me whatever you want to, but I will always protect you, Azula. Always.”

Something in his voice stilled her and she stopped struggling. His hold on her arm relaxed and she pulled it away, sliding her hand up his chest. Her other hand relaxed and she pushed her head forward, resting it beneath his chin. His hands went around her, spreading on her back.

“I need it, Sokka. Just in case.”

“Just in case what?”

“Just in case I forget who you are again. If I get lost again and I hurt you like I almost did back on Ruby Island, then nothing will stop me from losing control. I'll burn everything to the ground if that happens. It won't be a forest that goes up in ashes. It will be everything. Do you understand? The knife, that's... That's my way out.”

Sokka's blood ran cold at the implication. “You won't hurt me, Azula. I trust you.”

“I don't trust me. I can't. I'll get lost again, don't you understand? I'll get lost...and you might not be there to bring me back.”

He didn't say anything. He just held her tightly, as the trembles wracked her frame. Night fell around them. Eventually he led her into the cabin and set her down in front of the fire. She didn't stop him when he went into the bedroom and rummaged through her pack. He found the little knife at the bottom, its thin blade wicked and sharp, perfect for making little wounds. He wondered how many scars it had left on her body. Too many to count. So much pain, so much blood.

It needed to stop.

He came back into the front room and sank to his knees in front of her. He held out the knife, wordlessly meeting her gaze. She took it from him and stared at it for a long moment. Then she looked up at him.

“What if I get lost again?” she said softly, her voice haunted.

“I don't know,” he said honestly, shaking his head. “But I'll be there if you do. I promise.”

“You can't promise that.”

“Maybe not, but I am.”

Silence stretched around them, the crackle and pop of the fire in the blackened field stone hearth the loudest sound in the world. Azula touched the tip of the blade to her thumb, and blood welled. She sucked it into her mouth and then took a ragged breath.

She tossed the knife into the fire, and it sank between two burning logs, the wooden handle scorching black before catching fire. The blade turned black and glowed white-hot. Sokka turned, putting his back against her chair, watching the blade be devoured buy the flames.

Azula reached forward and touched his shoulder. He reached back and caught her fingers, holding her hand tightly. He didn't let go.

He never wanted to.


	33. Thirty-Two

****Rinchaka Falls was a picturesque mountain village situated in a narrow valley between the towering peaks of the Wyrm Mountains. The falls itself, which the town was named for, cascaded down Rinchaka Mountain for over two-thousand feet. It filled the valley with the pounding sound of water thundering down the mountainside, the white waterfall visible from everywhere in the valley. The air was filled with mist and a fog-shrouded the valley in the mornings, threading through the forested roads.

The village was full of low, squat wooden buildings, painted bright colors in every hue of the rainbow. Carvings covered the buildings, statues perching on the eaves, glaring up at the mountains. Local legends claimed that dragons had once nested on ledges around the falls. For hundreds of years the air had been thick with the scaled beasts, the cacophonous beat of their leathery wings almost as loud as the waterfall.

Azula had been there once before, long ago. She couldn't quite remember why her father had come here, but she remembered the falls. How small they'd made her feel, the sound of it, the mist on her skin as they'd stood at the base and watched the water ever churning, churning, churning.

She had no memory of the town, but she had been very small indeed when Ozai had brought his family here. Maybe it had been a family vacation, back when they were pretending they were a happy family.

Looking at the falls made her sad. She didn't like to think of her father, and she definitely didn't like to think of her mother, which set off a whole series of confusing emotions in her.

“You okay?” Sokka asked her as they strolled down the main street of the village. Though it was small, the village played host to a lot of visitors, because of the waterfall, and the history of the place. There were carvings of dragons on the mountains that had been there for thousands of years, and people liked to come and see them, to study them, or just marvel at them.

“I'm fine,” she said, tucking her arm into his. He smiled at her a little, but there was something hesitant in his eyes, as if he knew she were sad. He was always so tuned into her emotions, probably even more than she was.

Things had been tense between them on the journey from that little cabin in the meadow to the safe house in the woods outside of Rinchaka Falls. Neither one of them had said much about their argument over her self-harming, but she felt like something between them had changed.

She just wasn't sure what.

What she needed was a distraction. Something, anything, to get her mind off of Sokka and her aching heart. Dealing with the Fire Bug would have to do, although she wasn't looking forward to meeting him at the falls the next day.

She and Sokka had come to the village a day early. Sokka wanted to get a good look at the weapon's depot, to plan their escape, should things go badly, and to see what kind of force was posted there. They had done this for every other mission, but this one felt different. It was as if both of them could sense that something would happen on this mission, something bad.

She could only blame that feeling on the fact that they would have to deal with the Fire Bug. Sokka was especially tense about meeting him. She wasn't entirely sure he wasn't planning on killing him on sight.

Not that she didn't agree. The Fire Bug had nearly killed them twice before, and he had been successful at killing at least fifty others in the last few months alone. His trail of blackened bodies and fire mad arson across the Fire Nation was staggering and frightening. He had no regard for human life.

And still, Azula couldn't help but feel that she and the Fire Bug had something in common. How easy would it be to go fire mad, to burn everything she saw? She had done it once, in the Green Heart so long ago. She had gone fire mad in her revenge and she had left bodies behind in the ash.

Was she so different from the Fire Bug?

She wasn't sure.

They continued through town, playing tourist, trying to look as inconspicuous as the other people with maps and guidebooks that were walking the streets. The buildings along the road squatted together, crowded for room between the forest and the mountain's slopes on all sides of the narrow valley. They found the weapon's depot easily enough. It was at the edge of the town, just past the mill on the river that ran through the center of the valley, fed by the falls. A few houses and a large wooden building painted a cheery red with a weathered sign in front of it stood close to the depot.

She glanced at Sokka and caught his frown. He had expected the depot to be a little farther out from the edge of the town as well. The valley ended in a forest just past the depot, the slopes of the mountains beyond that; any escape they would have to make once they destroyed the depot would have to be either out of the valley on the main road, or over the mountains.

She didn't relish the idea of climbing those craggy peaks. Dragons had nested there in ancient times for a reason; only the most skilled climbers were likely to be able to scale their heights to get out of the valley that way.

The depot itself wasn't busy. Baz's information in the scroll had said that it was mostly a warehouse facility for the Fire Nation's ground troops. They kept things like uniforms, armor, and swords there, to be shipped off down the river if supplies ran low. It was of no real military value.

She had stopped wondering why the Smoke Demons sent them on missions. The depot would be no great loss to anyone. She wouldn't even feel particularly guilty about its destruction; it wasn't like they were burning down a thousand year old Fire Sage Temple, which they had done. She still felt guilty about.

Still. Something wasn't right. She couldn't put her finger on what, but something... Something felt wrong.

Sokka led her over to the river's edge, and they stood at the top of the embankment, tossing in flat rocks while they surreptitiously studied the depot and made plans for its destruction and their escape.

“We don't want to go over the mountains, but we may have to if we don't get out of the valley before the soldiers are on us,” she said in an undertone as Sokka skipped a rock six times across the surface of the rushing river.

“Too bad we don't have Appa. We could be out of this valley before anyone knows the depot is on fire,” Sokka mused, handing her a flat stone. She took it and expertly flipped her hand to the side. It skipped eight times and Sokka shot her an appreciative grin.

“And then we'd smell like air bison for a week.”

“Yeah, the scent does tend to linger,” he said with a snort. “I kind of miss that big fuzzy lump though. And Aang, for that matter. And you know...Momo too.”

She wondered what it would be like to have friends to miss.

“Who's Momo?”

“Aang's lemur-bat.”

“Oh,” she said. “I never knew its name.”

“When we go to Republic City, I'll introduce you.”

“I'm not going to--” But she cut off her argument, something catching her attention out of the corner of her eye. She half-turned toward the movement as Sokka skipped another rock.

Twenty or so children, all dressed in identical uniforms of a dark rust red, with wide yellow belts and soft yellow shoes had run out of the cheery red building, laughing and pushing. They seemed to be a motley collection of ages, from toddler to teenager, boys and girls. A harried looking woman came outside after them, hands on her hips as she watched them run into the yard before the building.

A group of the children came running into the wide dirt road, kicking a ball back and forth between them and laughing. Azula watched them with her brow furrowed before she slid her eyes to the sign in the yard.

Rinchaka Falls Orphanage.

“So we don't go over the mountains unless we have to,” Sokka said, grunting as he threw another stone. “And if we get separated, we meet back at the safe house. Okay?”

She turned away from the children in the yard across the road and rolled her eyes at him. “I know the escape plan. We're not going to get separated.”

“Yeah well...I'm not leaving anything to chance on this one. I don't trust the Fire Bug.”

“Me neither. We just need to do the job and get the hell out of here.”

“Agreed,” Sokka said and glanced at the depot. “Not much personnel. Probably only a couple of soldiers, mostly clerks. The bookwormy type. I doubt they have many guards overnight. We'll just have to draw them out of the building before we set it on fire.”

“Distraction will be your job.”

“ _Our_ job. I'm not letting you out of my sight with that psychopath on the loose,” Sokka said sharply. “And I'm not leaving you alone with him.”

“I can handle myself,” she snapped.

“I know you can. It's not you I don't trust, Azula,” he said softly, coming over to her and taking her hand. “I just want to make sure you're safe.”

“I'm always safe when I'm with you.”

Their eyes met for a long moment and she felt tingles go down to her toes. She tried to ignore it, just as she had been trying since that night in the cabin, but there was no way she could. Everything in her wanted to fall into his arms and never let go.

But she wasn't going to do that. She couldn't let herself rely on him anymore.

She had already made up her mind, plans forming in the back of her head. When this was all over and done with, when Zuko was safe and the Smoke Demons had been taken down, she was going to disappear. She didn't know where she was going to go, but it was going to be far, far away from Sokka.

It was what was best, for the both of them. She was going to go somewhere and get help. Maybe try to find someplace she could plant her feet while she tried to find a semblance of peace. She wasn't sure she deserved peace, but she was going to try for it. She wanted to try for it.

Sokka didn't fit anywhere in that plan. She was in love with him, and she had to let him go. For his sake. For her own sake. She wouldn't have the strength to walk away from him when the time came if she didn't harden herself to him now.

It was so hard to do when he was staring at her like that, holding her hand so gently that she wanted to wrap her arms around him. But she had to.

She pulled her hand away, heat burning in her cheeks. “We need to focus.”

“Right...” Sokka said, rubbing at the back of his neck, a strange look on his face, like he'd caught himself thinking things he shouldn't have. He probably had. Things between them hadn't changed an inch. That made it all that much worse.

They went over the plan again, as the afternoon wore on. At nightfall, they'd slink around the building looking for weak points, but for now they were content to watch the comings and goings at the warehouse as discretely as possible.

Something bumped against Azula's leg and she started, looking down at a red leather ball that had rolled to a stop against her ankle. She stooped and picked it up.

“Hey, lady! Can we please have our ball back?”

She looked up at one of the children from the orphanage, a gangly boy of about seven with a shock of dark hair standing in all directions. He was missing a few front teeth and he'd lisped the word “please” so that it sounded like “pleath.” He held out his hand for the ball.

In her youth she might have tossed the ball into the river, just to be mean. Just because no one would stop her. Just _because._ Now, she tossed it back to him without a moment's thought, smiling as he caught it one-handed.

“Thankth!” the kid lisped cheerfully and then took off back to his friends. They started kicking the ball around again. Azula watched them for a moment, a part of her wondering why her younger self would have enjoyed ruining that child's fun—and probably destroyed the only ball the children had in the process. They had nothing. She had had everything as a child. Why hadn't she seen that back then?

She would have gotten no joy from such pointless pettiness now. She wasn't sure if that meant she had grown up, or not. She certainly knew about senseless cruelty now. Perhaps that was it. Perhaps she had changed.

The woman on the steps of the orphanage blew her whistle and Azula watched the kids troop inside reluctantly.

“What's wrong?” Sokka asked her, following her gaze as she watched the last child enter the building. Azula opened her mouth to reply as she turned back to face him.

She never got the chance. The next moment, the air around them exploded in a deafening hail of fire and debris and she was hit in the back by something hard that slammed her to the ground face first, the wind knocked out of her. She screamed Sokka's name, or she thought she did, but he was gone.

And the world around her was chaos and flame.

* * *

 

Sokka gasped as he landed in the rocks on the riverbank, rolling backward as the shockwave that had knocked him off of his feet stole his breath, his sense of up and down, and worst of all, his hearing.

He rolled into the water with a splash, his fingers scrabbling at the bank, sinking into mud and sand as the current attempted to grab him and drag him in. He felt pain in his arm, wetness, but he ignored it, scrambling up out of the water and onto the bank.

“AZULA!” he screamed, lifting his head, but that was a mistake. His head swam dangerously, pushing him back down onto all fours where he felt the urge to throw up come over him. He clutched at the rocks on the riverbank and tried to make sense of what had happened.

An explosion. He was sure of it.

He had seen it out of the corner of his eye. So sudden and violent that the building had torn apart. There had been fire, a massive fireball, flaming debris flying in all directions, and flames, _flames,_ so many flames.

He felt his head, his hand automatically going to the scar on his forehead from the mine collapse. It still troubled him with headaches, even now months later. His shaking, mud-smeared fingers felt the scar, but his head hadn't split open from the force of the blast.

No, something else was wrong.

He felt for his ears, screaming Azula's name again, but all he heard was a muffled cry. His hands came away from his ears bloody. That wasn't good.

He coughed and spat blood at his feet and then crawled up the embankment to where he and Azula had been standing only moments before. He could smell something on the air, acrid and caustic, smoke drifting like fog across him, making his swimming eyes water.

Sokka pulled himself to the top of the embankment and stopped, horror sweeping over him. Everything was burning. The depot was gone, nothing but debris so small it was like matchsticks. The trees were stripped of bark, the branches aflame. The grass was burning. The forest was burning. The houses closest to the depot were gone too, blown to bits. The mill across from the depot was on fire, the water wheel floating downstream.

The fire was spreading to the whole village. There were people in the streets, screaming, injured. One man was reaching for his leg, which had been severed. Blood was splashed in the dirt before him. He was pale and shaking as someone lurched to his side to help. Others were worse; there were bodies that weren't moving.

Sokka let the chaos roll over him as shock slapped him across the face.

“Azula,” he breathed, looking around for her. She had been there, only a few feet from him when the world had upended. Where was she?

He got to his feet, even though he wanted to throw up from the way his head was swaying on his shoulders. He needed to focus. He needed to find Azula. His ears were starting to ring, which he hoped was a good sign.

“AZULA!”

He kicked burning debris out of his way, coughing as lurched into the main road. Looking left, all he could see was the remains of the depot. Looking right, back toward the center of Rinchaka Falls, he spotted something moving in the smoke and fire, someone screaming in front of a red-painted building.

“AZULA!” Sokka screamed, limping toward her as she stood in front of the orphanage. The side of the building facing the depot had collapsed. The building was on fire, the wooden structure nearly consumed already. Azula was bleeding, her hands outstretched toward the flames, moving in Firebending forms, siphoning off the flames.

She was trying to fight the fire.

He already knew it was a lost cause, even as he ran full tilt toward her, stumbling across debris. “AZULA, IT'S TOO LATE!”

He caught her arm as she siphoned off another gout of flames. She was covered in dirt and ash, blood trickling from her ears, her nose, and a gash across her back. She was sweating, her hair wild, her eyes wide and bulging.

She shook him off without seeing him, still fighting the flames.

“AZULA, IT'S GONE!” he screamed, but even as he did, he saw something moving in one of the broken windows on the bottom floor. Tiny hands reaching for help.

He tore across the burning yard, jumping grass and debris, forgetting the pain in his head and everything else as he scrambled to get to the window.

The window had broken in the blast, the frame sagging. The house was close to collapse, the flames spreading too quickly to be stopped. Smoke and fire poured out of the window, but Sokka hauled himself up, grasping the burned and bloodied hands that were reaching for his. He pulled a little girl with half of her face covered in blood from the window, and then turned back to grasp another set of hands, a boy whose legs were on fire.

Sokka pulled him out and shoved him down onto the ground, rolling him in the dirt to put out the flames. The child screamed in pain; his legs were raw, the skin melted, bloody, the flesh charred as it tore away from the muscle beneath. Sokka felt his stomach lurch again, but he didn't stop until the flames were out.

He grabbed the boy and the shocked little girl in both arms and ran them over to Azula, who was still fighting the flames. There was blood on the ground at her feet. She was trembling all over as tears fell down her cheeks. There was an odd sound in his ears now, one he couldn't—or wouldn't—place.

Sokka ran back to the window, screaming for anyone else to come. He grasped the window frame to haul himself inside, but fell back as glass cut into his hand. Flames poured from the window a second later, smoke choking him. He coughed and clenched his bleeding hand, falling back as something in the structure gave.

It was going to collapse.

Terror ran down his spine as he stumbled back from the building, tears falling down his face as he put his hand over his mouth, realizing the sound that he had been hearing wasn't in his head. The ringing had stopped.

It was screaming he could hear.

The screams of the children still trapped inside.

“ _Noooo..._ ” Sokka breathed, his knees giving out on him as he reached Azula's side. He hit the dirt and felt his stomach seize. The smell of charred flesh was on the air. “Spirits help them...”

“NO! NO!” Azula screamed, pacing forward, still trying to fight the flames, but it was like fighting a demon. The flames were too hungry, too fast, too powerful.

“Azula...” Sokka croaked, reaching for her, but she only had eyes for the fire.

“PLEASE NO!” she screamed, her voice breaking on a sob. Sokka heard a child screaming in pain, in panic. “PLEASE! PLEASE! HELP ME!”

She ran for the burning steps of the building and he saw what she was going to do. He was up on his feet, scrambling after her so fast that everything was a blur.

He caught her, tackling her to the ground at a run just as she reached the steps. They rolled together across the debris and glass. Azula fought him, screaming, reaching for the flames that wouldn't obey her now. They had no master.

She clawed at him, scratching her nails down his face as she tried to get away, but he grasped her by the arms and dragged her away from the towering fire. The flames were reaching toward the sky. The grass around them was starting to blacken from the heat. He could feel it on his skin as it tightened from the heat. The air was hot. His lungs were searing.

And then, with a splinter of beams and a whoosh of hot air and embers, and burning debris, the entire structure collapsed. Sokka wrapped his arms around Azula, hauling her back against him, into the street, though it was no better there. Someone had run up and grabbed the two children he had saved from the building. The little boy was shaking all over, his leg a mangled mess as he screamed in pain. The little girl seemed beyond even terror as a woman picked her up and carried her away from the burning building.

Sokka struggled to hold onto Azula, who was fighting him like a hellcat.

“NO! LET ME GO! THE BABY! I HAVE TO HELP THE BABY!” she screamed as Sokka knocked her feet out from under her and pinned her to the ground beneath him.

“IT'S GONE, AZULA! IT'S GONE! THERE'S NO ONE LEFT TO SAVE!” he screamed at her, even though it cost it him. He was sobbing in great heaves, his vision blurry with tears.

“NO! I HAVE TO!” she sobbed. “THEY'RE SCREAMING! LET ME GO!”

“Don't leave me!” he gasped, clutching her face in his hands. “Please...Azula... Please, come back to me, my Princess!”

Azula's expression of desperate horror faded into pained acceptance as she focused on his face. She gave a great heaving gasp and then let out a wrenching sob that shot straight through his chest. Her body went limp beneath his and she reached for him as he reached for her.

He held her tightly, crying into her hair as she did the same. “I love you, please don't leave me...”

“Sokka...” Her hands tightened in his hair. “Sokka, the baby... I did it, I killed him...”

“No...no...shhh... No...” he cried as she babbled in his arms. “No, you didn't do this, Azula. You didn't do this. You _didn't._ ”

He didn't have to wonder who had. He had known from the moment he'd scrambled up the riverbank who was responsible for the destruction and death around him. He looked over Azula's heaving shoulder at the remains of Rinchaka Falls.

The town was on fire. He could tell that nearly every structure would be destroyed in the flames. People were fighting the fires. They would not win the battle. People were dead and the injured were being carried past the flames and out of the valley. There was another village about five miles away. Help would be coming soon, but not soon enough.

“It's okay,” he soothed Azula, but it wasn't. Nothing was okay. Nothing would ever be okay again.

Behind him, he heard laughter, and the sound was such a shock to his overwhelmed system that he thought he was hearing things again. Sokka's head shot up and he spotted a figure strolling out of the smoke as if he hadn't a care in the world.

Laughter ran through the ember-filled air as the man spotted the burning orphanage and threw out his hands with glee, twirling on the spot. Sokka recognized his face, and a cold, murderous hatred seethed in his chest.

The Fire Bug.


	34. Thirty-Three

“' _Firebug, firebug, fly away_ _unseen_ _, the house is on fire and the children a_ _ll scream_ _!_ _'”_ the Fire Bug squealed, dancing around the debris in the road, and kicking bits of splintered, charred wood into the air. Then he threw back his head and laughed, long and loud.

Sokka's burning eyes narrowed, his lip curling into a grimace of hatred. Boiling rage bubbled through him, hot and hard and overwhelming.

His arms slipped away from Azula as she rocked back and forth on the ground, not seeing anything, her unfocused gaze on the burning husk of the orphanage. Her lower lip was trembling and bloody, sweat dripping down her pale skin.

He turned his attention back on the fire mad bender who had torn the world apart, who was dancing in the street and cheering at the destruction. His hand fell to the knife at the small of his back and he pulled it.

“FIRE BUG!” he snarled, his voice carrying even over the sound of the flames roaring through the valley, eating houses and entire lives. The Firebender whirled at the sound of his name, his face lighting up. “WHAT DID YOU DO, YOU SON OF A BITCH?!”

“Isn't it glorious!” the Fire Bug declared, throwing his hands wide. Then he cocked his head at Sokka, peering at him with a curious expression on his face. “I know you...don't I?”

“ _'Where there's smoke...'_ ” Sokka ground out, stomping toward him.

“ _'There's fire!'_ ”The Fire Bug's face lit up in recognition, a wide grin bursting over his already gleeful face. “YOU! You're my contact! They told me I'd be working with a Princess and her bodyguard, I never thought it would be YOU!”

The Fire Bug hadn't been told that they had already met at the mines that day on Black Rock. Sokka filed that away for later. There had to be a reason he hadn't been told. He couldn't fathom what it was, but maybe it didn't matter.

“What did you do?” he snapped.

The Fire Bug twirled in a circle and laughed. “Burn, burn, burn... I didn't know it would explode like that. I wonder what they kept in there? It wasn't spare uniforms, that's for sure. Do you think Mother Dear will be angry?”

Mother? Sokka dismissed whatever came out of his mouth. The man was mad. He couldn't even see the danger he was in at the moment.

“You're the man from the mine, aren't you? You got in the way of my fun. You and that pretty girl with the blue fire. I didn't know it was you. Fun, fun, fun... Old friends, we are!” the Fire Bug said, glancing at Azula rocking back and forth in the debris-strewn grass. “But you're not really you, are you?”

He ignored him, stepping forward, grinding out, “You were supposed to wait for us.”

“I don't like to wait,” the Fire Bug laughed, his tongue sliding along his lips as he stepped close to Sokka. Too close. “Did you hear them screaming? Burn, burn, burn... Such pretty flames and all I had to do was spark it.”

“Sokka?” He glanced back at Azula; she had stood, her legs shaking beneath her. “Sokka...the baby...”

“Sokka. That's who you are. She screamed your name in that tunnel. Sokka, Sokka, Sokka...” the Fire Bug said, and Sokka whipped back around to face him, his expression closing down. “What will Mother think?”

The hatred spilled out of Sokka, like boiling water being poured down a drain. What was left was raw and dead. As cold as ice. He was vaguely aware of the people in the street, picking up the wounded, trying to fight the flames, wandering in circles, in confusion at the destruction around them, and of Azula, sobbing, his name on her lips.

He ignored it all and glared at the Fire Bug. He stared into the Firebender's eyes, at the fire reflected in them. The Fire Bug pulled a wide smile that faltered as he saw, perhaps for the first time, the murder in Sokka's eyes. The next moment, Sokka punched the Fire Bug in the face so hard he felt one of the man's teeth crack against his knuckles. The man reeled backward, clutching his face, blood bursting out of his mouth.

Fire bloomed in the Fire Bug's fist and he went for Sokka, but Sokka dodged the fireball, spinning to the side and snapping out his leg. The blow took the Firebender in the knee, crumpling him forward. Sokka grabbed the man by his spiky black hair and yanked his head back, exposing his throat.

“No! I'm supposed to burn!” the Fire Bug said.

Sokka felt completely empty inside when he pulled the knife across the Fire Bug's throat, from ear to ear. Blood gushed in a hot red fountain and the Fire Bug choked on it, the look in his eyes surprised. As if he hadn't seen it coming.

“You don't get to burn,” Sokka whispered in his ear, and then kicked the Fire Bug into the blood-soaked dirt. The Fire Bug choked, twitched feebly, and then lay still.

The blood-coated knife dropped from Sokka's numb fingers as he stared at the Fire Bug's body for a long moment. He was waiting to feel something about what he had done, but all he could feel was satisfaction. And that was probably a bad thing.

He didn't give a shit.

Looking up he found himself staring at a man standing about twenty feet away. The man's clothing was burned, a cut on his scalp. He was carrying a bucket of water. A look of horrified shock was on his face. Sokka knew he had seen him kill the Fire Bug, and as their gazes met the man let out a squawking scream, catching the attention of others.

Okay, that was bad. He had murdered a man in the middle of the street. There were _witnesses._

His numb mind jump-started with a jolt.

“We gotta go,” Sokka said, reaching Azula's side in the blink of an eye. When he grabbed her hand, she tried to pull away, her feet digging in, a look of shock on her face.

“You killed him...”

“Fuck yes, I did,” Sokka snapped. “We have to go. Now.”

“I can't... The baby... Sokka, the baby... I have to save him this time...” she gestured to the burning building, where nothing stirred now but the flames as it devoured the structure.

Sokka caught her face in his hands and stared into her crying eyes. “You can't save him, my Princess. Please, come back to me. I need you right now. Please.”

“The screaming,” she said, her voice trembling. He knew the look in her eyes; she was moments from a panic attack. A panic attack they could not afford right now.

“We need to get the fuck out of this town, right now,” Sokka said and all but yanked her off of her feet as he dragged her toward the road. He didn't know which way to go. Everything was chaos, smoke, flames and blood.

They couldn't leave by the only road; he could see the man pointing in their direction. Soldiers were pouring into the village, alerted by the smoke and the explosion. There was no way past them, not now.

The river was too fast and too deep to even hope to swim across.

There was only one way to go.

“Into the woods, Princess,” he grunted, dragging her toward the trees at the end of the valley, past the remains of the depot. The trees were aflame, scorching to their roots, although the fire wasn't nearly as thick here; the wet spring and mountain mists were keeping the flames at bay. Just enough to allow them to slip through the fires, and up into the slopes of the mountains.

He dragged Azula along, a stitch in his side as she fought him, trying to run back toward the fires. He could hear the soldiers shouting after them, but couldn't see them through the thick trees. The farther they went, the steeper the slopes became, until he realized that he could see the valley stretching out below them.

Rinchaka Falls was nothing but flame and ruin, smoking rising as thick as fog.

What had the Fire Nation army been keeping in that depot? What could have caused such an explosion? And why hadn't Baz known about it? Even the Fire Bug had been taken off guard by the explosion. He hadn't known what would happen.

That didn't mean Sokka wanted him any less dead for what he had done.

He pushed those questions and the memory of the Fire Bug's hot blood gushing over his hand out of his head as he dug in, pulling Azula along. He knew the soldiers were still chasing them.

“Get to the safe house. Get our packs. Run,” he panted to himself as they climbed the craggy peaks.

But run where? Where could they go? With the soldiers chasing them, the safe house was no longer safe. The plan had always been to go back to their last safe house—the cabin in the meadow, in this case—if their current safe house was compromised.

He wasn't going back there, though. He had killed another Smoke Demon. He'd have to be a fool to think that would go unpunished.

They had to run somewhere that no one could find them. Somewhere he could think...

“The baby...” Azula panted, trying to yank her hand out of his again. She succeeded this time, and tried to run back down the mountain, but he ran back after her, grabbing her around the waist. “LET GO!”

“AZULA, STOP!” Sokka grunted, pushing her against a tree. He grabbed her face again and forced her to look into his eyes. “LOOK ATME! LOOK AT ME! There is no baby!”

“I could hear it screaming... I can still hear it screaming... It's everywhere, all around me, and it was in me, it was in me and I tore it out!”

“It's not real, Azula,” he said, putting his forehead against hers. “Please come back to me. Please, my Princess... I need you right now. I need you. Look at me, I'm real.”

He grabbed her hand, which was covered in blood, dirt, and ashes, and shoved it against his chest, right over his heart.

“Sokka...”

“Feel that? It's real. Focus on my heartbeat, Princess. Find your way back to me, please.”

She shuddered and lifted her other hand to her face, digging her nails in. He grabbed her hand to stop her, and she let out a trembling sob that he felt in his guts. He wanted to break down, to cry over the things he had seen, had done. Over the lives he hadn't been able to save. But he couldn't. And he needed her.

“Sokka? Sokka, is this... Is this real? I don't want it to be real.”

He felt his chest ache. “Just focus on me. Forget everything else. It's just you and me, my love.”

“You're real... You're real... You're real...” she mumbled, pressing her forehead against his, tears flowing down her cheeks. “Sokka...I... I tried to make it right. I tried, but the fire wouldn't stop. I had no control...”

“I'm so sorry,” he said, and kissed her forehead. “I know you tried. That's all that matters, my Princess.”

She let out a shudder and collapsed in his arms, the tension running out of her all of a sudden. It took him a moment to realize that she had fainted. He cursed as his arms encircled her, and he felt the warm dampness of blood on her back. She was injured, badly, and she had lost a lot of blood.

He heard a shout nearby and realized that the soldiers had found their trail.

Sokka hoisted Azula over his shoulder and took off up the slope, weaving through the dense trees as night fell on the mountains. And still the fires in the valley below them raged on.

* * *

 

Azula woke to the feel of warm, callused hands on her naked back, and the sound of exhausted cursing. She stirred and then felt pressure on her shoulder, keeping her in place.

“Whoa, there... Easy. Don't move,” Sokka croaked. “I've only got about half of these stitches in.”

Stitches? Why would she need stitches?

Confusion tumbled through her as she turned her head to the side, blinking burning eyes as the world came back to her in hard, bitter drops. Pain exploded behind her aching ribcage and it had nothing to do with the wound on her back. She remembered the explosion in Rinchaka Falls, the fires, the children...

She had failed to save them.

Her grief was beyond words, beyond pain, beyond her ability to cry or articulate. It thudded in her stomach like a lump of molten lead dropped into water, heavy and solid and now a part of her that would never leave. Just like everything else.

She had failed.

“Where are we?” she asked as she felt the familiar pull of thread through skin, although she wasn't feeling much pain.

“We're in a barn. I'm not sure where. About ten miles south of our safe house, I think. We're near the coast, or we should be. I don't know how much you remember, but you passed out on the journey. I had to carry you out of the mountains.”

“Why didn't we go to the safe house?”

“It's been compromised. We have soldiers on our asses. They saw me kill the Fire Bug.”

The memory of watching Sokka slit the mad Firebender's throat came back to her, in a haze of memory flavored with pain and grief and horror. The look in Sokka's eyes had been merciless and cold. She swallowed and felt grit in her mouth. It was the taste of ashes, and it coated her thick, sandpapery tongue, flooding her senses.

“I remember...” she breathed, licking her dry lips. “Sokka...”

“I don't want to talk about that motherfucker right now. How do you feel?”

“Hurts.”

“Yeah. You had a piece of wood buried in your shoulder and if it had hit you any lower it might have pierced your heart. It glanced off your shoulder blade instead,” Sokka said, his voice shaking, though his hands were steady as he stitched her up.

“Why did the depot explode like that?” she asked after a long moment.

“I don't know. There was obviously something being stored there that Baz didn't know about. Although I find that hard to believe,” he said bitterly.

“Do you think Baz is trying to kill us now?” she asked with alarm.

“No,” he said grimly. “Baz isn't the type to leave anything to chance when it comes to assassination. There was no way he could guarantee our deaths in that explosion. He'd never try something like that, even if I believed he was out to kill us, which I don't.”

She agreed with his assessment; Baz wasn't the type to lay a trap for them. Not like that anyway, and as far as she could tell he had nothing against them.

“There are too many variables.”

“Exactly.”

“Are we going back to our last safe house?”

“No.”

“Good,” she said, straining her eye to catch a glimpse of him. She was on a wooden table, a lantern glowing at Sokka's elbow as he worked. She could just see the vague outline of ostrich-horse stalls around them, although the stalls were empty at the moment. The smell of hay and dung was on the air, along with antiseptic. “They'll come after us.”

“They won't find us.”

“What about Zuko?”

“We'll warn him about the Smoke Demons.”

“That may put him in even more danger. We know there's a mole at the palace.”

“Doesn't matter,” Sokka said grimly. “They'll still send an assassin after him, and if it's not us, then Zuko needs to be warned anyway. We can't keep playing these games with the Smoke Demons. If we're compromised, then that's it.”

She didn't say anything again until Sokka had finished stitching the wound on her back, and he'd bandaged it with sure fingers. That done, he helped her to sit up while she held her ruined shirt, which Sokka had cut down the middle, up to her chest. He got her some water and she drank four large cups before her thirst was slaked; she had a feeling she'd lost a lot of blood.

“We need to keep moving, but if you're too exhausted, we can rest here for a while. I think its safe,” Sokka said, fishing into her pack and pulling out a new shirt. He helped her to put it on; lifting her arms above her head was painful enough to make her gasp.

“Where are we going?”

“I don't know. We need some place to regroup. Some place they won't find us,” Sokka said, sitting down on the edge of the rickety table. He was covered in blood and grime, shoulders drooping with exhaustion. His eyes were red-rimmed and she could see tear tracks in the dirt on his face.

“Sokka,” she said, putting her hand on his shoulder. He jumped at her touch and then looked at her guiltily. “I'm sorry.”

She wasn't sure what she meant by that. She was sorry about a lot of things. The explosion. The fires. The children in the orphanage. That he had had to kill the Fire Bug. That she had gotten lost, just when he'd needed her. That she had passed out. That he had had to take care of her again. She meant all of those things, but the words were not enough.

Sokka put an arm around her waist, pulling her against his shoulder. “I'm sorry, too.”

They sat like that for a long while, both of them too exhausted to move. She felt his chest heave all of a sudden and her head shot up off of his shoulder. Tears were coursing down his face.

She didn't ask what was wrong. She already knew.

She slipped from the table and turned, meeting his eyes. Sokka's body was trembling and she realized that he was in shock; the adrenaline that had been driving him since the explosion had worn off and now he was paying for it. All of it.

She didn't say anything, slipping between his knees and pulling him into her arms. Sokka sagged, his face buried against her chest, his arms tight around her waist as she smoothed her hands down his hair. She didn't tell him it would be all right.

Nothing would ever make what had happened right.

* * *

 

“What. Happened?” Shura snapped, pacing across the floor with a click of her shoes. “They're saying the entire town went up in flames!”

“I don't know, Mother,” Kang said patiently. “Princess Azula, Tazeo, and the Fire Bug were supposed to set fire to a weapon's depot there. They're saying it exploded, but we don't know why. There shouldn't have been anything in the depot to make it explode like that.”

“What a surprise then,” Shura drawled. “I don't like surprises. Someone has to pay for this mistake.”

“The Fire Bug's body was found in the street. Someone slit his throat.”

“And Princess Azula?”

“No clue. She's disappeared, along with the bodyguard. Tazeo.”

Shura paced across the floor and then stopped by the wide window that overlooked the courtyard, and the Royal Palace beyond that. She stared at the facade of the palace, as if it were taunting her. It belonged to her. She could have been ruling the Fire Nation for decades if Iroh hadn't rejected her for that weak-wombed bitch who had died giving him a son.

The whole Royal Family was weak. The Fire Nation belonged to her, even if she had to take it by force.

“Find the Princess.”

“We have our agents looking for them, but they're not at the safe houses. They're in the wind.”

“Then get that woman with the...creature. June! Have her track them down. NOW! I can't lose track of Princess Azula, not now. Not when we're so close.”

“We'll find them, Mother. And we'll find out what happened in Rinchaka Falls.”

“I don't give a fuck about Rinchaka Falls,” Shura said, turning on her son, her eyes flashing. “Someone failed me, and since I can't burn that little fire mad bastard to death for it... _someone_ will have to pay.” She thought a moment and then grinned. “It's been a while since we baited my favorite little assassin, hasn't it?”

“Not since the soldier last month. She put a dagger in his throat from fifty feet away.”

“So impressive,” Shura said, her grin sharp. “It's a shame Mai isn't really loyal to me, but...it's so much fun watching her think she's getting close to finding out who I am. Leak Baz's whereabouts to her. I don't know what happened in Rinchaka Falls, and I don't care. I just want Baz dead by the end of the week. Then send Mai with June to find the Princess.”

“It will be done, Mother,” Kang said, and then hesitated. “It's clear the Princess or her guard are responsible for the Fire Bug's death...will there be retaliation?”

Shura laughed, but it was humorless. “Oh, yes. There will be...but not yet... Soon. But not yet.”


	35. Thirty-Four

“What is this place?” Sokka asked in an undertone as they stared at fussy little house on the rocks before them. The stilted house was dwarfed by large mansions on either side and it looked as stoop-shouldered as an old woman. It also looked abandoned, the yellow paint peeling off of the weathered wood in large chunks. She doubted the wealthy neighbors were very fond of this house.

“It's Lo and Li's house,” Azula said with a sigh. “Those two old biddies that used to advise my father?”

“Oh yeah...” Sokka drawled, hoisting his pack up higher. “Zuko told me they died about two years ago, I think. He handled their estate and their funerals.”

Azula looked at him in surprise. “I didn't know they were dead.”

Sokka glanced at her, grim-faced. “I'm sorry, I didn't think to tell you. Were you close?”

“I don't know...” she mumbled. “They were like annoying aunts or something. They were always there, even when I didn't want them to be. I thought we could hole up here on Ember Island for a while. No one would ever think I'd come here on purpose.”

“It looks abandoned. Maybe Zuko didn't sell the house?”

“Who would buy it?” she snorted, but her humor was half-hearted at best. They had been very quiet on the journey to Ember Island. Every breath made her back run with pain, and the stitches kept pulling whenever she reached for something. Carrying her pack against the wound hadn't been an option, so Sokka had had to carry both packs. He was as tired as she was.

They needed to rest and regroup. To think and plan before they did anything else. Most of all, Azula wanted to sleep. Her eyes were gummed up and she could taste the road in her mouth. They'd stolen snatches of sleep on the two ferries they'd taken to get to Ember Island's docks, but it wasn't enough. Sokka was swaying on his feet as well.

“Come on,” she said, tugging on his sleeve. He followed her obediently, his footsteps heavy on the docks. They made their way up the road to Lo and Li's house, and the closer they got the more abandoned it seemed; the windows were dark, the curtains drawn, with leaves and sand piled up on the little stoop facing the road. No one had been there for a long time. Probably not since Lo and Li had died.

She fished around the weedy flowerbed, overturning a large rock, where she remembered Lo and Li had kept a spare. It was still there, rusted and caked with dirt, but when she put it in the lock and gave it a twist, the door sprang open. And the musty smell of old lady and mildew came billowing out.

“It smells like old lady in here,” Sokka coughed as they stepped into the living room. Azula lifted a handful of blue flames, illuminating the cobwebbed corners of the room. It was like stepping into a time machine. Nothing had changed.

The place was still draped with doilies and fussy pillows, the pictures of Lo and Li from their youth still hanging on the wall. Azula felt weirdly sad as she stood there. Lo and Li had mostly been an annoyance to her throughout her life, but they had been the ones to care for her after her mother had disappeared.

A long-forgotten memory came to her all of a sudden. She had anxiously knocking on the twins' door late one night in her twelfth year, her stomach in knots. They had answered together, speaking in unison as usual.

“What is wrong, Princess Azula?”

“I'm bleeding and it's completely disgusting! How do I make it stop?”

The twins had looked at each other for a long moment and then they'd pulled her into the room and sat her down on their chintz-covered couch, but not before Li had tossed a towel down, which had just made Azula feel even more humiliated than she already had been. They'd given her The Talk right then and there.

She hadn't been ignorant of what was happening to her, but she had been totally unprepared for just how... _thorough_ the twins' explanation was. She had left their suite with a scowl and a burning hatred for her own uterus. Azula had never missed her mother more than in that moment.

She pushed thoughts of her mother aside, as she always did, turning to face Sokka, who sank down onto the dusty couch, the packs falling at his feet.

“I think we're safe here. No one's been here for a long time,” she said, running her fingertip over a squat little armoire, scraping away a few inches of dust.

“Good, I don't even have the energy to fight off a nap right now, let alone an assassin,” Sokka said as he stretched out on the couch, one of the lace-covered pillows stuffed up beneath his head. He toed his boots off and kicked them away.

“There are beds upstairs,” she yawned, as she kicked off her own boots and held her hand out to him, to help him up.

“Stairs? Fuck that noise,” Sokka said, pulling her down onto the couch on top of him. She didn't fight him as she settled down across him, her head on his chest, their feet tangled. Sokka's arms wrapped around her waist as she snuggled into his warm, solid chest. “Did you lock the door?”

“Yeah,” she mumbled, her eyelids already closing of their own accord, her exhausted body giving out on her all at once. She felt Sokka's reply in the rumble of his chest, but she was already sinking into sleep and his words fell on deaf ears.

She awoke sometime later, alone on the couch, her face pressed uncomfortably against one of the cushions. Squinting through her gritty eyes, she could just see out of the windows that faced the sea. Judging by the light, she had slept all yesterday afternoon, all night and well into the morning. Her mouth certainly tasted like it.

Sitting up, she dragged her hand through her greasy hair and licked her dry lips.

“Sokka?” she called and when he didn't immediately answer, she stood up, fear sharp as a knife in her chest. “Sokka, where are you?”

Azula raced through the house, calling his name. When she climbed the stairs to the second level, she heard water running and felt a jolt in her chest as she skidded to a stop in front of the bathing room. She hesitated, and then pushed the door open.

Steam billowed out in a cloud, clinging to her lips and skin as she stepped inside. The bathing room was tiled entirely in pink, with floral curtains and glass-fronted shower that left nothing to the imagination.

Sokka's back was turned to her, water sluicing down his dark skin, his hair plastered down his neck. She hitched in a breath, her eyes fastened to the narrow cut of his waist and the taut flare of his ass. His muscular thighs flexed as he moved, the muscles in his back rippling as he propped his hands on the tiles and hung his head.

A soft sob came from him, and she felt her whole body ache.

She should say something. She should leave.

Instead, she opened the shower door and stepped inside, fully dressed. Sokka startled when the door opened, his head lifting. His eyes were rimmed in red, tears on his face.

“I hope you didn't steal all of the hot water,” she said as the water hit her back, soaking her clothing to her skin. Sokka stared at her incredulously and then let out a soft laugh. He reached for her, pulling her in close to his body, tucking his face into her neck.

“I needed you,” he said against her neck and she felt a tremble go through him. She put her hands on his ribs, holding him tightly. “I didn't want to wake you up, but I needed you...”

She didn't have to ask what for. Rinchaka Falls had tormented her dreams and her waking hours every night since they had fled from the burning village. She was still too raw to even speak of it. She kept hearing screams in her head, and she wasn't sure if it was her memory or her mind playing tricks on her.

She was too tired to cry though. She was beyond the need for tears. Sokka had been playing strong for her on the journey to Ember Island, and other than his breakdown in the barn, he hadn't said much about it. They had both been too hurt, bewildered, and traumatized by what had happened. Now, with some semblance of safety cocooning them from the outside world, both of them needed something.

Comfort. Release. Just knowing that they weren't alone in their grief. She wasn't sure which. It was probably all three.

“I'm sorry,” she said, as he lifted his head to look at her. She reached up and wiped away the tears on his face with her thumbs. “I feel the same way, I'm just too numb to cry anymore.”

Sokka nodded. “I know... I'm not a crier, I'm not... I just... Azula, I'm so tired.”

“Me too.”

She felt strange, offering comfort to Sokka when it was usually the other way around. She had never offered comfort to anyone before. She had never loved anyone the way she loved Sokka either. If she could have ripped her own heart out and given it to him, she would have, just to give him the strength to face the horrible things they'd seen in Rinchaka Falls.

She wished she could have protected him from that. She wished things hadn't happened that way at all, but there was no going back. She knew that better than anyone.

Bad things happened. Sometimes there was no reason for it, and no lesson to learn. Sometimes you just had to make peace with it and move on.

That's what she wanted to do, more than anyone. She wanted peace, even if she wasn't sure she deserved it. She still wanted it.

And she still wanted Sokka, most of all.

“I should feel bad that I killed him, shouldn't I? I'm a bad person if I don't care that he's dead, right?”

She knew that he meant the Fire Bug. “I think the fact that you're asking that question at all proves you're not a bad person at all, Sokka. He murdered a lot of people. Not just in Rinchaka Falls. He deserved to die. You didn't do anything wrong.”

“Aang wouldn't have killed him. He would have found another way.”

“The Avatar could also have taken his Bending, but you're not the Avatar. He wouldn't have stopped until someone had killed him, Sokka. That's how fire madness always plays out. The Fire Bug—whatever his real name was—he knew that. He craved death. A part of him wanted to be stopped.”

“I know,” Sokka said tiredly. “I know it was the right thing to do, but... I keep playing it over and over in my head. I didn't... I didn't feel like myself when I killed him.”

“What do you mean?”

Sokka's eyes closed. “I felt like him. Like Tazeo.”

Azula reached up and touched his face. His eyes fluttered open and she stared into them. “Sokka you are nothing like the man Tazeo was. Nothing at all. You're not him.”

“I know...” he repeated, and then ran a hand through his wet hair. “I'm fucked up right now.”

“Welcome to my life,” she snorted.

“Azula...”

“Come on, the water is getting cold,” she said, reaching behind her and turning off the taps. She was shivering now, soaked to the skin. Sokka let out a soft, tired laugh.

“You're soaking wet,” he said, plucking at her shirt.

“I'm overdressed and you're undressed,” she said. “Either way, what a view.”

“I don't mind if you look,” he said with a shrug as she opened the shower door and stepped out. “How's your back?”

“I don't know. It hurts, but I assume I'll live,” she said as Sokka stepped out behind her, grabbing one of the fluffy pink towels and wrapping it around his waist. She moved toward the door, but Sokka stopped her, one hand on her forearm.

“Let me see.” She didn't protest when he lifted her wet, clinging shirt, not even when he pulled it off of her and dropped it on the floor at their feet. He peeled back the sodden bandage and prodded the stitches, making her wince. “It's not swollen or red, so I guess that's a good sign.”

He signed the next moment and dropped his head onto her shoulder. “What are we going to do?”

“I don't know. And we're both too tired and fucked up to make any decisions at the moment,” she said, turning around to face him. She was very aware of how wet her bra was, her dark nipples showing through the white fabric. Sokka's eyes didn't stray from her face, however. He was wearing an odd expression. “What's that look for?”

Sokka shook his head ruefully.

“I'm falling apart and you're picking up the pieces,” he said wonderingly. “It's strange.”

“I'm a complicated woman, you know,” she said, scooping up her shirt.

“You certainly do know how to surprise me,” Sokka said, shaking his head. His eyes were soft as she lifted up on tiptoe and kissed his cheek.

“Get dressed and we'll get some food. I'm starving,” she said, heading toward the door.

“Azula?” She stopped at the door and half-turned toward him. Sokka ran his hand through his wet hair. “Thank you.”

Her smile was teasing. “I got to see you naked, that's all the thanks I need.”

“I _am_ quite the specimen, aren't I?”

“Oh, _Spirits_ ,” she said, rolling her eyes. His soft laughter followed her out the door.

* * *

 

“That fucking bitch!” Shura snapped, yanking off one of her glittery gold heels and tossing it at the wall with a bang, the heel gouging out a chunk of plaster. “How _dare_ she? I should have ripped every fucking hair out of her ugly painted head for putting her hands on me. ON ME!? I'm worth a thousand of her! She's just some common slut!”

She kicked off her other heel and it smashed into an ornamental plate, sending it toppling.

She picked up a vase from the table and smashed it on the terrazzo. When that didn't calm her, she picked up another vase, and then another and another, until the floor was littered with shards of pottery, glass, water, and bruised flowers.

Lady Shura paced through the water and broken shards, her face purple with rage. She kicked at a broken-stemmed rose and let out sound like a strangling cat.

“I take it things didn't go well, Mother?” Kang asked as he walked into the room and stopped, staring down at the carnage at Shura's feet. She turned on her son and plastered a large, fake smile on her face, one that showed too much teeth.

“I want to kill that whore.”

“Yes, I'd gathered that from all the screaming.”

“Don't sass your mother,” Shura snapped.

Kang looked down at her bare feet and his mouth flattened a little. “You're going to cut your feet.”

She held out her hand to him, wiggling her fingers, and Kang came over, picking his mother up by her waist and setting her down outside of the debris field.

“Look what I've done to the roses,” Shura said, disgusted as she shook back her hair and smoothed her hands down the slinky, diaphanous dress that hugged her every curve. And she had a lot of them. The dress left nothing to the imagination and she had had a lot of luck with it in the past. Most men were all too eager to get her out of it as soon as she put it on, helpless, falling all over themselves to please her, to ravish her.

But not, apparently, the Fire Lord.

_The little twerp._

“I'll have them replaced,” Kang said patiently and she looked to her son, studying his features, trying to find his father in his looks. She was almost certain his father had been the stable boy...whatever his name had been. She had also been sleeping with her husband's chef at that time, so she had never been quite sure who his father really was. Kang couldn't cook, and he hated animals, so perhaps it didn't matter.

She'd certainly never thought it did. Her husband hadn't cared who she dallied with, so long as she left him alone to his art collection and his lovers. She had enjoyed ordering his death. She'd almost done it herself, but the irony of using Li-Shang's own money to hire an assassin to kill him had been too delicious to pass up. That was how she had met Rian, and through him, an entire network of easily bought killers, thugs, and brutes to do her dirty work.

Her husband's death had opened up a world of possibilities to her. She had always known what she wanted, what should have been hers from the start. Now, after years of plotting and planning, she was so close to her goal she could taste it.

If only that bastard brat had taken the easy way out, she'd be halfway to the throne by now.

She'd tried to seduce him before, but he hadn't taken the bait. She'd thought it was because of that insipid Kyoshi Warrior that followed his every footstep. That whore—Suki, what a nasty, common name—had thrown her out. Shura had retaliated by spreading rumors about the two of them.

She hadn't thought there was anything to the rumors for a long time, but lately... She was sure they were sleeping together. And that made the Captain of Zuko's personal guard Enemy Number One. The insult she'd suffered tonight had only made her anger grow.

She could still see the look of horror on Zuko's face as he'd walked into his suite to find her lying across his bed. She could tell by the look on his scarred up face that he had no idea how she'd gotten there. It was obvious he didn't know about the secret passage his father had had installed in the room so long ago.

All the better for her.

She'd thought he was alone—finally!—that she would have a chance to convince Zuko that she was all he needed. All he needed was a little convincing. All _any_ man needed was a little convincing.

But then that whore had walked in, with her garish face paint and her stupid uniform and that disgusted look on her face. As if she thought she, Shura, was some sad old tart or something! As if she thought Zuko would never fall at her feet.

Her hands shook as she thought about wrapping them around Captain Suki's oh-so-slender neck and squeezing until the bitch's pretty blue eyes popped out. The Captain had tossed her out of the suite and escorted her out of the palace, where everyone in the halls had seen her in her barely-there dress. The rumors would be all over the palace within hours.

She had been humiliated by a peasant. A peasant who didn't deserve to sleep in the Fire Lord's bed.

And Zuko? That scarred up freak had used up his last chance. She had wanted to do this the easy way. Seducing him, marrying him, getting the throne... All it would be so much simpler if she could just take a shortcut. And the fact that he had rejected her—HER!—had made her want him even more.

Even now she could taste her need, rising like bile in her mouth, seething rage filling her.

“He rejected me, that ugly, scarred little bastard rejected me!” she burst out, clawing her hands through her hair. “I was trying to make this easy on him. I didn't want to have to kill him if I didn't have to, but he's left me no choice. I want him dead. Before his damned council can put on this ridiculous ball and he finds a fucking wife and has a pack of ankle-biting brats! I WANT HIM DEAD AND THAT LITTLE WHORE WITH HIM!”

She picked up another vase and destroyed it with a satisfactory smash.

“Mother, what about the plan to have Princess Azula assassinate him at the ball? We agreed that that would be best, to get both of Iroh's heirs out of the way. To leave your...inevitable ascension to the throne without taint.”

“Princess Azula has disappeared off of the face of the earth, has she not?”

“Mai and June have been sent after them. They'll be brought in, I have no doubt. She can still be useful.”

Shura paced. “No, I can't take the chance. I want him dead. I was insulted! Humiliated! Dragged through the palace like some commoner. They're laughing at me! I won't let it stand! And I want that whore's head mounted on my wall.”

“We haven't made good use of the Kyoshi Warrior yet. Should we send her another message?”

“Her mother's running out of fingers by now,” Shura laughed. “No. No, I'm not ready to play that hand just yet. Her time will come. No, I think it's time Rian proved his loyalty to me and not that crazy bitch Princess. If Rian is killed in the assassination attempt, then I haven't lost any agents in the palace.”

“A wise move.”

“In fact...send the little Kyoshi cunt one of her mother's fingers. No, a _thumb_ this time. Make sure she knows that it's her duty to end Rian's life if he fails to kill Zuko and her Captain. I don't trust him not to turn on us if he thinks it'll bring him closer to Azula. After all, I did promise him a chance at the Usurper.”

“It will be done, Mother.”

“Make sure it is,” she snapped, and pointed to the door. “Go, _now!_ And get someone in here to clean this shit up! I can't do everything!”

Kang bowed to her and left the room. She paced the floor, still seething with rage. Plans within plans. She had to plan for every contingency, every variable. She would not fail.

She would get what she wanted.

The world would bow at her feet or she would bring it to its knees by force.


	36. Thirty-Five

****Although they'd had a week off at the safe house before they'd been sent to Rinchaka Falls, both of them were exhausted. Months of living on the road, living only on what they could carry in their packs, eating trail food, hard traveling, and the tension and stress they'd been enduring from one mission to the next was suddenly overwhelming them.

They spent their days haunting the fussy little house on the rocks, lying in bed together for hours at a time, napping, sleeping, or just talking to one another. They talked about everything and nothing at once, skirting around the subject of Rinchaka Falls as best they could. They were both still raw, damaged, and shaken by what had happened.

When he wasn't sleeping or with Azula, he paced the balconies, checking the windows, the doors, peering out to sea, and at the road. Azula did the same. He didn't have to ask what she was waiting for.

They both knew this couldn't last. They couldn't hide forever; eventually one of the Smoke Demons would find them. Or they would have to leave, to warn Zuko of the plot against him. The day was coming when they couldn't put it off any longer, and they both knew it, but they were so exhausted and heartsick it was hard to make themselves do anything more strenuous than go into the village to buy food with their dwindling supply of gold.

And even that seemed like a task fraught with dangers. He had paced the market the entire time, too keyed up to stand still, certain he would be recognized, that the Smoke Demons were just biding their time.

Sokka's nerves were shot and he knew it. He kept jumping at small noises. And he was starting to have nightmares. More than once Azula had woken him from a dream that had left him thrashing and drenched in sweat. She'd held him tightly to her, calming him as he'd calmed her so many times.

Azula was still having nightmares too, and they seemed to take it in turns to calm one another. She seemed as on edge as he was, but there was a calmness to her that he couldn't quite pin down. She seemed sad, but resigned, as they whiled away the days together.

About a week and a half into their self-imposed isolation, they were lying in bed together, dozing with the windows open, a warm breeze blowing in from the sea. The days were getting hotter and summer wasn't far off. They were sharing the same pillow, their breaths mingling, one of Azula's legs slung over his. Her hair was spread out on the pillow and he was absentmindedly twisting one of his fingers in a strand that had fallen across her shoulder.

“If you could go anywhere and do anything, what would you do?” Sokka asked her.

“Do I have lots of money?”

“Tons. More than you'll ever need.”

Azula drew in a deep breath, biting down on her lip as she thought for a moment. “I'd buy an island.”

“A whole island?” he said impressed.

“No, just half—of _course_ a whole island! With a beach and cliffs and a little cottage beneath the trees.”

“What color is the cottage?”

“Red.”

“Naturally,” he said, grinning. “And what do you do on your island?”

“I fish. I garden. I have my own flower garden where I grow lavender and peonies and roses. And there are wildflowers everywhere. I also have a vegetable garden, and I grow the biggest pumpkins you've ever seen.”

“How big?”

“Huge! You could live in them,” Azula said, grinning at him. “I have fruit trees too, and I keep bees for honey. I bake pies and my own bread. And in the afternoons I drink tea in the garden. When it's hot I swim in the ocean and lie on the beach and I don't want for anything at all.”

“That sounds pretty nice.”

“I also have pig-goats,” Azula giggled.

“Pig-goats? For cheese?”

“For cheese. And bacon when I get a hankering.”

Sokka laughed, soft and rich, twirling her hair around his finger. “I can just see it now. Azula the Pig-Goat Herding Princess.”

“Naturally I make the pig-goats bow to me.”

“Well, obviously,” he said, tugging on her hair a little bit. “You know, your island might get a little lonely after a while. Do you get many visitors?”

“Just one. A merman.”

“A _merman?!_ ”

“Yes. He pleasures me every high tide and twice on Sundays,” she said seriously as Sokka's eyebrows lifted.

“Oh, he does, does he? And how does he do that, he's part fish! He doesn't have man-bits.”

“Details, details...this is my fantasy, remember?” Azula shot at him, prodding his hard stomach with the tip of her finger.

“It's definitely a fantasy. You can't bake for shit,” he said, sticking his tongue out at her. She rolled her eyes at him.

“True...and I'm fairly certain I have a black thumb. I've also never fished a day in my life. And I hate pig-goats.”

“I still like your fantasy.”

“Me too,” she said, her hand over her mouth as she smiled. “I wouldn't mind being on an island with you, though. Just the two of us.”

His heart clenched in his chest and he found himself returning her smile. “Isn't that what we've been doing this whole time?”

“You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I do. And me too.” They stared at one another for a moment, his smile soft, his body relaxed against hers.

“What about you, Sokka of the Water Tribe? What would you do, if you could?”

Sokka felt his throat closing, and there were warning sirens scream in his head, but he ignored them. He let her hair slip from his fingers and then slowly brushed his hand down her bare arm.

“I'd be with you. I wouldn't care where or how or why. I'd just be with you.”

Azula drew in an unsteady breath and her eyes dilated, flicking to his mouth and then back to his eyes. The tension between them seemed to sizzle, crackling and popping like electric sparks.

“ _With me_ , with me?” she asked, her voice tight, her body tense. Sokka leaned forward on the pillow, his hand settling on her hip.

“However you wanted me, my Princess. I'd be yours. Heart, body, and soul.”

Azula squeezed her eyes shut tightly at his words, drawing in a few ragged breaths. Then she shook her head and rolled over and away from him.

“That's a fantasy and we both know it.”

He did know it, didn't he? Sokka rolled over onto his back and put one hand over his eyes. “I shouldn't have said that.”

“No. You didn't mean it.”

“Yes, I did,” he said quickly, lowering his hand. “I meant it, Azula. I shouldn't have said it, but I meant it.”

“We can't keep having this conversation,” she bit at him, drawing her legs up to her chest.

“And you don't think there's a reason we keep having it anyway?”

“No. Yes. It doesn't matter!” she said as he rolled over and scooted across the bed to press his chest against her back.

“You know how I feel about you.”

“I know how you _think_ you feel about me,” she said, looking at him over her shoulder. “And I don't want to talk about this anymore.”

She pushed away from him and got out of the bed, grabbing her singed green robe and slinging it on. She marched toward the door as he sat up, one arm slung across his bent knee, the other plucking at a frayed string in the duvet.

“Azula, sometimes I think that if let myself I could fall so deeply in love with you I would never be able to find my way out again. And sometimes I think I already have, and that scares me. And sometimes...sometimes it doesn't scare me at all,” he said, his voice a soft rumble. He felt so tired. Tired of pretending his heart wasn't aching for her.

Even though he shouldn't feel that way, for every reason in the book, he still did. It was real. What he felt for her was real. He knew she felt the same way. He could see it in her eyes, feel it in her touch.

Azula turned back to face him. Her eyes were huge, glistening, her brows drawing together as she stared at him for a long moment.

“You'll get over it.”

And she walked out of the bedroom, leaving him sitting there with his confession hanging in the air like the echo of a scream.

* * *

 

Thunder played in the sky outside, rattling the glass windows in their frames. Beside her, Sokka mumbled her name and rolled over, pressing his face into her hair. Azula stiffened as the thunder seemed to seep into her bones, rattling her down to her marrow. She shifted in the bed to face Sokka, staring at his face in the flashes of light from the window.

She lifted her trembling hand and traced the slope of his nose, trailed her thumb across his lips and down his neck, memorizing the rough feel of his stubble. She breathed in his scent—how it would haunt her, how she would cling to it until it faded from her senses, but never her memory.

She felt like someone was squeezing her heart, pulping it, shredding it with hot iron spikes. Sokka's hand spread on her hip, lifting up beneath her shirt, his skin hot on hers. It didn't frighten her. It didn't make her shudder away from him.

It made her feel loved. He had told her that he loved her, admitted with sadness and wonder in his eyes, and she had wanted nothing more than to confess, to throw herself at him. But she hadn't. She couldn't.

Sokka slept on, as the storm built outside, the rain pinging on the tiled roof. She screwed up her courage, and stared at his face in the flickering darkness.

“I love you, Sokka,” Azula whispered, her voice nearly drowned out by the rain, her hand over his heart. She could feel his steady heartbeat, the bass thump the only music that had ever made her blood dance, her own heart sing. “I love you. This was real. We were real, for a moment. We were real and I loved you. I will always love you.”

“'Zula,” Sokka mumbled, and then shifted away from her in the bed, his hand sliding off of her hip. With his hand gone, she felt untethered, set loose like a balloon sailing off into the clouds.

There was nothing to hold her there. Maybe there never had been.

She let out a soft sob and withdrew, slipping away from him and out of the bed as gently as possible. Her bare feet touched the floor and then she was off, running light-footed out of the open doorway and into the hall, down the stairs to the doily-infested living room.

She pulled her back out from behind one of Lo and Li's painted screens, her hands trembling as she pulled out her clothing. She yanked her pants on over her nightgown and threw on her cloak, then tugged on her boots, her pulse thundering as loud as the wind was pounding the surf into the rocks below.

She grabbed her pack and turned to the door. Tears were blinding her now, running freely down her face. She swiped at them, trying to make herself leave. To walk out into the storm and never look back. To disappear again, like she had tried to do so long ago.

She had nearly done it; everyone had almost forgotten about her. She could do it again.

She was strong enough to walk away. She knew she was. She had to be. He would be better off without her, better off if he didn't have to deal with her panic attacks, and visions, and nightmares. Better off not feeling guilty and confused about his feelings for her.

She was doing this for him. She _had_ to do it. There was no other choice. There was no future for them. There never had been.

He would go back to Suki and he would move on and she would be...

She would alone. Alone on her island, the fire in her heart slowly dying without him. She would finally be broken. Totally. Completely.

He wouldn't understand why she had left and she knew that he would stop her if she wasn't being a coward and leaving in the night. Leaving him to deal with this mess they had gotten into together. She winced, remembering the letter she had written while he'd been down at the docks yesterday, catching their dinner.

She swung her pack around, swiping at her blurry eyes in the darkness and fished into the front of her pack, where she had stashed the letter. Her hands came up wanting, and she felt a jolt in her stomach that had nothing to do with the boom of thunder that rattled the house around her.

She felt in the pouch, even though she knew it wasn't there. She frantically checked the other pouches, but the letter was gone.

“Looking for this?”

She jumped, wheeling to face Sokka, who was standing at the base of the stairs. She could see her letter in his hand as he waved it. Lightning lit up the room and she could see the stormy look on his face.

“Sokka!” she gasped, swiping at her wet eyes.

“You were just going to leave, just like that? Just walk out into the night and never look back, huh?” Sokka said, his voice full of hurt and barely banked rage. “After all we've been through, and you'd just...walk away.”

“I was going to leave you that letter. I wasn't going to just disappear,” she said defensively. “I just... I didn't know how to say goodbye.”

“You don't _have_ to say goodbye. You don't have to leave, Azula!”

“Yes, I do.”

“Why?”

“You know why! Dammit, Sokka, you know exactly why! It's for your own good,” she said.

Sokka let out an incredulous laugh. “For my own good? As if waking up to find you gone wouldn't hurt me more than a mine falling on my head? As if I wouldn't be going out of my mind thinking that the Smoke Demons might find you? That they might hurt you? I'd lose my fucking mind, Azula.”

“You'd get over it.”

“No, I fucking wouldn't,” he snapped, stepping down off of the stairs and walking toward her. He stopped about halfway, the letter crumpled in his clenched fist. “I would do anything to protect you, Azula.”

“But you can't. You can't protect me, Sokka. I know you want to take away everything that's ever hurt me. You'd heal me if you could.”

“Damn, right!”

“But you _can't_. I have to do that on my own.”

“Okay...yeah, you do. I get what you're saying, Azula, but you don't have to do it _alone_. You don't have to leave,” Sokka said, his voice wrenched tight in his throat. “I don't want you to leave.”

“Yes, you do. Don't you get it? I'm trying to make it easy on you! You need to go to Zuko, to tell him about the Smoke Demons. He needs you to warn him. You can go back to Suki and have your stupid perfect life and you can forget all about the crazy woman who made your life hell--”

“Don't call yourself that.”

“Why not? I am crazy! Sokka, I'm fucked up in the head. I can't even...” Her breath caught in her throat on a sob. “I can't even make love to you.”

“I don't care about that!” he said heatedly, starting forward another step. “That's not why I lo--”

“Well, I care about that! I need to leave, before you hate me for not being everything you need.”

Sokka's eyes were angered, but there was sadness there too. “Azula, I could never hate you. And certainly not for _that_. I don't need you to be everything. I just need you to be you. That's enough. Azula, you're enough.”

She stared at him for a long moment, her shattered heart dropping to her toes. “And what if I stay? What's going to happen? We still have to warn Zuko. You'll go back to Suki, and where does that leave me? Huh? What happens then, Sokka?”

He hesitated, closing his eyes. “I don't know.”

“Yes, you do. We both know how this ride ends, so excuse me for getting off before it explodes in my face. Forgive me if I'm not strong enough to see you with her. I know you love her. She loves you, even if you think she's fucking my brother.”

He winced at that, but shook his head. “I think she's in love with your brother.”

“But you don't know that.”

“I think maybe I do.”

“Are you going to break up with her?”

“I...I don't know,” he said, hanging his head.

Azula pushed back the sob in her chest. “There was only one answer to that question, Sokka. We can't keep doing this. We both know how this ends. It should never have happened in the first place. One day you'll thank me.”

“Don't leave. Please.”

“I'm already gone, Sokka. Please don't look for me. Please?” she said, turning away from him, her hand on the doorknob. She felt him move up behind her, his hand closing over hers, stilling her.

“Don't go, Azula. We'll figure this out.”

She turned to face him, and he was much too close, his scent in her nose, the realness of him closing in on her, so solid and strong. She felt a deep, aching need to push her face against his chest, to grasp at his skin, to pull herself into the safe harbor of his arms that it was a physical pain. It shattered what little resolve she had and she let out a soft cry.

“I can't.” But she didn't know if she meant she couldn't stay, or couldn't leave him. It didn't matter. Stuck in her heartbroken indecision, Sokka leaned in and kissed her, softly. So softly that it startled her into chasing his kiss, pressing for more when it seemed he wouldn't deepen it. His lips feathered against hers, the barest brush, as tingles shot through her skin. It was maddening, and she had no defense against it.

He pulled back before she could satisfy the deep hunger rising in her like a tidal wave. His hands lifted, cupping her cheeks, his thumbs brushing away the tears that had spilled from her eyes.

“I can't stop you from leaving, Azula. If walking through that door is what you want, then go with my blessing. I want you to be happy. It's all I want. Wherever you go, whatever you do, please find happiness, my Princess.”

 _You're my happiness,_ she thought hopelessly.

His hands dropped away from her and he stepped back, the apple of his throat bobbing as he swallowed. She was left, bereft of his touch, spun loose in the wind. Alone on her island.

He wouldn't stop her. She could walk away and he wouldn't chase her. She knew it by the look in his eyes. She couldn't tear her gaze away from him. She could still feel the soft brush of his lips against hers.

This was her last chance. Her only chance.

“Sokka, I lo-” she started as lightning flashed, illuminating the room. The words died in her throat in that flashing moment, as she saw a dark figured framed in the balcony doors over Sokka's shoulder, two daggers gleaming in their hands.


	37. Thirty-Six

“Rian!” Sokka snarled as he followed Azula's startled line of sight. Rage boiled in him as Azula's hands lit up with flames, illuminating the room in a blue glow.

“Stay back!” Azula said, her voice still thick with tears, but anger immediately surging out of her at the sight of the intruder. Sokka wasn't entirely sure if Azula was talking to the intruder, or him. He hadn't come downstairs with a weapon.

“You can put the fire up, Azula. I'm not here for a fight,” said the figure in a familiar, husky drawl before she palmed the daggers in her hands and threw her dark hood back. “Unless you want one.”

“ _Mai!?_ What are you doing here?” Sokka said, the tension running out of him in a second at the sight of her. Although he and Mai had never been close, he felt an odd sense of homesickness at seeing her standing there before them, dripping rainwater onto the rug. It had been so long since he'd seen a friendly face.

Mai clawed her inky black hair out of her face as she surveyed the two of them in the light of Azula's flames. She looked somewhat startled, peering at them as if she were looking at two strangers. Maybe she was. The last ten months had been hard on them.

“I was sent to find you. I'll be honest, when June and I went to Rinchaka Falls to catch your scent, I thought we were only going to find bits and pieces of the two of you scattered around,” Mai said as Azula finally relaxed beside him.

“You nearly did. We got lucky, but we barely made it out of there,” Sokka said as Azula lit the sconces, flooding the room with bright light. Mai blinked and looked around the room, an expression of horrified disbelief on her pale face.

“Spirits, this place hasn't changed a bit. It still smells like old ladies in here,” she said, her lip curling. She looked directly at Azula. “If I hadn't thought you'd never come here in a million years, it would have saved us some time.”

“We didn't have much choice,” Azula said.

“Clearly,” Mai drawled.

““Our safe house was compromised, and... Well, we thought it was a good idea that no one knew where we were for a while. We were going to lay low for a while and then figure how to warn Zuko.”

“You were, huh?” Mai said, and then peered at Azula, noting the tear tracks on her face, the pack by the door, the crumpled letter at Sokka's bare feet. Her narrow gaze slid over to Sokka next and she pursed her lips a little. He felt like she could see right through him; Mai had always been keenly observant, even if she pretended not to be. “Did I interrupt something?”

Azula swiped at the tears on her face, avoiding even glancing in his direction. “Yes, I was... I was leaving.”

Mai's eyebrow lifted at that. “I see. Well then, it looks like I got here just in time.”

“In time for what?” Sokka asked as Mai shook the rain out of her cloak and tossed it down on a chair.

“To stop you from fucking this entire thing up, for starters. You can't warn Zuko, not right now. You'll blow my cover, and yours!”

“And what is happening? We're not exactly in the loop, Mai. We weren't even in the loop when were in the loop! I don't think we met more than a handful of agents, and one of them tried to kill us!” Sokka said.

“You,” Azula corrected him. “He tried to kill _you_.”

“Sounds like you guys have been busy,” Mai said dryly, turning her gaze on Azula again. She had a sharp look in her eyes that Sokka couldn't read.

“We've been through hell and back, Mai,” Sokka said. “Why are you here? Did they send you to bring us back into the fold?”

“Yes, but I would have come after you anyway, even if they hadn't ordered me to,” she said.

“We're not coming back,” Azula said softly. “And we're not answering to anyone. What happened in Rinchaka Falls was... It wasn't us. It wasn't me. It was the Fire Bug and--”

He glanced at Azula, alarmed at the suddenly unhinged touch in her voice. They had been spending their days avoiding mentioning the Rinchaka Falls, but he knew that it was bothering Azula more than she was letting on. He had heard her screaming about the children in her sleep more than once, muttering, “It wasn't me, I wasn't me...”

He had a feeling what had happened had reminded her too much of the incident in the forest. He wanted to forget what had happened in Rinchaka Falls himself. He couldn't imagine how Azula felt about it.

“You don't understand, Azula. Everything is going to shit,” Mai snapped.

“What do you mean?” Sokka asked in alarm.

“June found out that the leader, or leaders, of the Smoke Demons are going to send an assassin after Zuko. And it's not going to be either of you.”

Sokka's stomach sank to his toes and he heard Azula pull in another sharp breath. She let her pack slip off of her shoulder the next moment, and it hit the floor at her feet with a bang. Sokka's frayed nerves jumped at that, but his heart soared the next moment.

“When?”

“I don't know. Soon. If we can stop them...if we're not too late...”

“We may already be too late,” Sokka cursed and rubbed at his forehead. He needed to think. He needed to do something. Anything. “We need to go. To the palace. Right now. Zuko needs warned that someone is going to try and assassinate him.”

“You can't. They're watching us,” Mai said, strolling over the window that faced the street and peering through the lacy curtains. “I was followed. I tried to shake them, but I couldn't.”

“Why were you followed?”

“Not sure,” Mai said. “Maybe they didn't trust me to come find you? Or maybe they're planning on killing the two of you for what happened in Rinchaka Falls. All I know is that June and I were sent to find you and bring you back in. They didn't say for what. We tracked you to Ember Island, and I knew there were only a handful of places you might be. This was the last place I checked.”

“Where's June?”

“She had some business in the Capitol. She's going to try and find out who the assassin is, but...that may be a moot point if we can't shake our tail out here.”

“We could just kill them,” Sokka suggested, coming over to the window and peeking out, his eyes narrowed. He couldn't see much; the rain was lashing the windowpanes, streaking the dirt caked onto the windows.

“Right, so they find out we're all double-agents when the agent sent to spy on me is found dead, that'll be great.”

“It won't matter if they know we're double-agents if Zuko is fucking dead,” Sokka hurled at Mai, who stepped back from the window and crossed her arms over her chest in the darkness. “The whole reason we did this was to make sure no one else but us was sent to assassinate him.”

“Well you fucked that up when you blew up Rinchaka Falls,” Mai snarled.

“It wasn't us. It wasn't us. It wasn't us. It wasn't _me._.. I tried... I tried to save them... I tried...” Azula said, her voice tight and rising higher as Sokka turned on her. He closed the distance between them and grabbed her hand.

“Hey, look at me,” he said gently as the panic attack slid into Azula like poison into a vein. He had sensed it coming on even before Mai had shown up. What if she'd left and had her attack without him? He hated to think of her in that kind of pain, alone and scared. “Of course it wasn't us, Azula. We both know that. I know you tried to save them, okay?”

“I tried...” she said, and her voice broke a little.

“What's real?”

She squeezed her eyes shut tightly. “You're real. This is real. We're real.”

“Yes, we are. Just breathe, okay?” he said, and she looked up, meeting his gaze. Everything tumbled between them in an instant. Their feelings for each other, what had happened in Rinchaka Falls, everything. It all surged in between them like ghosts and then disappeared. It was just the two of them. Alone on their island.

She took a steadying breath and shame welled in her eyes. “I'm sorry...I..”

“It's okay, I'm here,” he said, and the weight of what he meant seemed to settle the words between them like unmovable stones. He wiped a tear away from her cheek with his thumb. “I won't let you get lost, you know that.”

“Maybe you should.”

“Never, you know that,” he said with a soft smile, as he heard Mai clear her throat. He glanced up at her and saw a strange look on her face, one of dawning comprehension and suspicion. He ignored it. “Rinchaka Falls was a first class fuck up, but we were not responsible for it. They sent a fire mad Bender called the Fire Bug to work with us. He showed up early and blew up the depot on his own. If you went to Rinchaka Falls following our trail, then you saw what happened after that.”

“There's nothing left of the town.”

“I killed the bastard who did it and there were witnesses. We were chased by soldiers and barely made it out of there. Our safe house was compromised, so we came here instead.”

“You killed the agent who blew up the warehouse?” Mai asked, frowning. “Baz?”

Sokka shook his head. “No. Baz was our handler and it was his intelligence that sent us there, but the man I killed was called the Fire Bug. Or whatever his real name was. He's the one who blew the depot. I'm not sure if Baz knew what was in the depot or not. I don't think he'd send us there to kill us though, and we could have been killed, pretty easily.”

“How do you know Baz?” Azula asked slowly, suspiciously.

“I was given information from one of my contacts. That he was the one who blew up Rinchaka Falls. I took care of him,” Mai said as he met her unflinching gaze. Something passed between them in that moment: perfect understanding.

He knew that Mai had done things she wasn't proud of in her mission to take down the Smoke Demons from within. He had known that from the start. She had killed the man whose identity he was still wearing like a second skin, after all. He knew what she was capable of, but he could see the same light in her eyes that he saw in his own whenever he looked in the mirror now. Only worse. So much worse.

The things Mai had done were weighing down on her like lead. He could see the strain now, in the corners of her eyes, in the pinch of her mouth, in the thinness of her waist. There was something ghost-like about her now, barely there, stretched too thin.

He wondered if he and Azula looked like that, to Mai's eyes.

“No wonder they sent you to find us and not him,” he said grimly. He didn't know what to think. He hadn't precisely liked Baz—the man was a Smoke Demon, after all—but until Rinchaka Falls he hadn't had any issues with him. He couldn't think of why Baz had laid a trap for them at the depot.

It was yet another mystery. His head hurt.

“I guess so,” Mai drawled. “They don't know I killed him either. I doubt they'll find his body any time soon either.”

“You are one cold bitch, Mai,” Sokka said with some appreciation in his voice.

“I'm just getting the job done,” Mai said and glanced at Azula again. “So after the explosion, you guys thought the Smoke Demons would send someone to kill you?”

Sokka gestured to the window with one finger. “Obviously. We've had problems in the past, failures. I didn't think they'd let it slide this time. Not after I killed the Fire Bug.”

“Well, they didn't send _me_ to kill you, if that's what you're thinking,” Mai said, pushing the curtains closed again. “I can't say as much for our friend out there. I was only told to find you and bring you in.”

“Bring us in where?” Sokka asked, frowning as Azula pulled away from him and sat down on the couch, her hand over her mouth, and her eyes downcast. She seemed exhausted and defeated.

He knew the feeling.

“The Capitol,” Mai replied. “There's a meeting place. Nobu, my main handler, will be giving you your orders. Whatever those are. He didn't specify.”

Sokka ran a hand down his face and hung his head. “So we're fucked.”

“Potentially, but it's Zuko I'm worried about right now,” Mai said. “If you go to him, the agent in the palace may slip away, and they'll know you've turned traitor. They'll know I'm a double-agent...and I'm close. I'm so close to finding out who the leaders of this thing are. I know I am. If I just had more time...”

He could hear the passion in Mai's voice, the anger there. She had been living with this thing longer than they had. He'd been thinking that she hadn't been broken by it yet, but now he wasn't so sure. Mai was full of hurt, anguish, and a driving need that stunned him. He could hear it in the way her normally laconic voice tightened. What had she been through?

Sokka started pacing, crossing his tattooed arms over his bare chest as he walked, his mind whirring.

“Okay, you're right. We can't go to Zuko yet. That'll put you and your whole mission in danger, Mai. We need to find out who the leaders of this thing are—that's important. But we can't just let an assassin try and kill Zuko.”

“So we kill the assassin?” Azula spoke up.

“The trouble will be finding them. There are a lot of Smoke Demons who could do it...some I recruited too...” Mai said, a bitter expression on her face. “June may get their name, but it might be too late. We have no idea who it could be.”

Sokka and Azula, however, exchanged glances. He cleared his throat and said, “It's Rian.”

Mai's look of confusion was turned on both of them in turn. “Who?”

“He was one of our handlers, the first one we met when we arrive in the Fire Nation. He and I don't like each other much. It didn't take me long to figure out that he was obsessed with Azula. He thinks I'm—Tazeo—is beneath her.”

Mai's lips pursed at that. “Well, isn't he supposed to be? Your cover story was supposed to be the Princess and her big mean bodyguard. And yet I've been hearing rumors about the Princess and her big mean boyfriend instead.”

Sokka couldn't miss the piercing look in her eyes, the question she was skirting, but just barely. He opened his mouth to answer, but Azula spoke up instead.

“It's just a cover story, Mai,” she said and rolled her eyes. Mai glanced at Sokka and her lips twisted.

“Uh-huh,” she drawled. “Well, there's definitely some kind of flimsy cover going on.”

“Can we focus?” Sokka interjected, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Zuko's life is at stake.”

“Right, you think it's this Rian guy? Why?”

“He really, really hates Zuko, apparently. And he's obsessed with Azula. He tried to kill me to get me out of the way, I think,” Sokka said.

“Do you have anything of his? Something June's shirshu could track?”

“No. The only thing he gave us, other than the heebie-jeebies, were our orders, and we burned those.”

Mai blew out a breath. “I'll ask my contacts if they know him. Maybe I can--”

“Zuzu doesn't have that kind of time,” Azula said, standing up again. “We need to warn him. Now.”

“I know how to get onto the palace grounds undetected, but I have no idea how to get to Zuko, not without rousing suspicions. If someone saw me at the palace, that would be a big red flag. Especially if its the mole.”

But Azula's eyes glittered at that. “My father had a secret escape tunnel built during the war. It leads from the bedroom in his suite to a storage room in the stables.”

Mai's eyes bulged. “What? Are you sure?”

“I'm sure. He killed anyone who knew about it, even the Earthbender prisoners who built the tunnel for him. He wanted a private escape. I only found out by snooping around. We could get in that way, if we can get to the stables without being seen.”

“I doubt that,” Sokka said. “But we have to try. There's... There's another option. We could send a letter.”

“They're watching us, Sokka. We have no way of knowing if our communications will be intercepted.”

But Sokka's eyes narrowed. “We don't send it to Zuko. We send it to Suki. There's less of a chance her mail is being intercepted, and if it just looks like a letter from her boyfriend--” he glanced at Azula, who was stone-faced--”then no one will think twice about it.”

“They will if it says 'hey head's up, Zuko's got an assassin on his ass,'” Mai snarked. Sokka hesitated and then cursed.

“Okay, good point. What if we just...I don't know, hinted? Just tell her to watch Zuko's back or something. Put her on her guard. At least until we can figure out how to get into the palace. We have no idea when this assassin is going to try to take him out, right?”

Mai sighed. “Unfortunately not.”

“So they need warned, as much as we can warn them in a letter unfriendly eyes may read, until we can get to the Capitol. We _have_ to send a letter.”

“You just want to talk to your girlfriend,” Azula said, in a stinging voice.

“Azula, now is not the time,” he said in an undertone, but she just crossed her arms over her chest and turned her eyes away from him.

“Awkward,” Mai said under her breath, and he glared at her. He wasn't about to explain his relationship woes to her. She let it go though, ignoring his glare and pushing her damp hair out of her eyes. “It's the best plan we've got, I suppose. But what do we do about our friend? I'm pretty sure they're waiting to see if I leave or not.”

Sokka glanced at the window, and the agent skulking beyond it. “If you left without us, I bet he'd attack and kill us, right? Or at least attempt to.”

“That would be my guess. If I can't bring you in, then...well, the Smoke Demons wouldn't have a use for you. And they don't keep dead weight around.”

“How many are there?” Sokka said sourly, jerking his thumb at the window.

“Just the one, as far as I know,” Mai said cautiously. “What are you thinking?”

“Divide and conquer. They can only followed one of us at a time, right? I'll write the letter to Suki, and you and Azula can lead our spy away, while I head to the nearest messenger hawk office.”

“What if they don't follow us? What if they see us leave and then come in here and try to kill you?” Azula asked in a tight voice.

“It's a risk we need to take,” Sokka said firmly as he walked over to the desk in the corner and grabbed a piece of yellowed parchment, a quill worn down to a nub and some old ink.

“I don't like it,” Azula said, and he looked up at her.

“I know you don't,” he said softly. “But what choice do we have?”

Azula closed her eyes. “None, I guess...”

“Does this mean you're staying?” Mai shot at Azula, whose eyes flung open. She stared at Sokka, whose heart was racing all of a sudden.

“For now,” she conceded and turned away from him.

He had known that she was going to leave him; she wasn't nearly as sneaky as she thought she was, and when he hadn't seen her pack in the bedroom, he'd sneaked downstairs while she'd been in the shower. He hadn't liked going through her stuff, but the letter had had his name on it.

He hadn't read it, not a single word...but he'd known what it contained.

He hadn't been sure if he should stop her or not. He hadn't even been sure if she'd go through with it, but when he'd woken up to find the warmth of her in the bed so inexplicably absent, he had sprung from the bed in a panic, running after her.

If Mai hadn't shown up out of the blue, he was sure she would already be gone, disappeared into the storm and from his life as suddenly as she had appeared. The thought made him sick.

He wanted her to stay. He wanted...well, he wasn't sure. He just _wanted her._

“You may regret that,” Mai said.

“I already do,” Azula mumbled and then lifted her chin. “So what's the plan?”

“We send the letter, and then we can head to the Capitol. We'll figure out how to get into the palace from there, and then... We'll just have to wing it.”

“I'll have to bring you in to keep my cover,” Mai cut in. “What if Nobu is just waiting to kill you?”

Sokka hesitated and then bent over the parchment. “He can fucking try.”


	38. Thirty-Seven

Azula cast one last look back at Sokka as she and Mai left the house at dawn. The plan was to meet back there in an hour. Just enough time for Sokka to send the letter to Suki.

She didn't like the plan, but it was the best one they'd been able to come up with, and time was of the essence. Zuko's life was in danger. They couldn't hesitate.

Still, she hated leaving him alone with an agent—possibly an assassin—watching the house. What if something happened to him?

 _You were all set to leave him last night, and yet here you are, paranoid about leaving him for an hour,_ she thought at herself acidly. She tried to tell herself that this was different, but it wasn't. The thought of being away from him was like a knife in her heart. She had never thought she'd be the co-dependent type, and here she was.

She wondered if he felt the same way, and then told herself that it would be better if he didn't. He'd told her he loved her, but hadn't he been all-too-willing to let her walk away? He wouldn't have stopped her. Which meant he knew where his heart really belonged, even if he wouldn't say it. His actions spoke louder than words, after all.

Well, that wasn't a surprise to her. Hadn't she known that from the start? Wasn't he, even now, tripping all over himself to send his girlfriend a letter? She hadn't read it. She hadn't wanted to. He'd probably gushed at her and told her he loved her.

She turned away from the house as Mai glanced her way, and then, under the cover of her hooded cloak, glanced at the figure skulking on the rooftops before them.

“Are they following?” Azula asked in a low voice.

“Yes,” Mai said, and let out a sigh of relief. Sokka was supposed to leave the house the moment they were followed. She hoped he was fast. And that their tail didn't decide to head back to the house and catch Sokka.

Anxiety ran through her like a river of lava, making her skin feel like it was on fire from inside out, even though shivers were shaking her shoulders, and her hands were clammy with sweat. As they turned the corner, Azula saw the figure, for the barest of moments, follow along the rooftop. Whoever they were, they weren't as good as they thought they were. Or maybe she was only noticing them because Azula knew what to look for.

All around them, the world was waking up, and from the humidity in the air, it was going to be a scorcher. A heat wave was moving in, and not even last night's storm could dissipate it. She smiled a little; she had actually missed the days of punishing heat that sometimes settled over the Fire Nation. It got hot in the Earth Kingdom, especially in the desert, but nothing beat the humidity-laced days of unrelenting heat that the Fire Nation's balmy shores produced.

“You're going to sweat to death in that cloak,” Azula said.

“I wear black all summer,” Mai retorted. “I can take it.”

They turned another corner, heading toward the little marketplace in the center of the village. It was just after dawn, and the grocers would already have set up their stalls for the day. The plan was to make it look like they were shopping for food.

They really did need food, so it was a good cover, and they didn't want their tail to become suspicious. If it looked like they were trying to be sneaky, that would tip them off.

Mai glanced at her again and Azula suddenly sensed that the woman wanted to say something to her. She could guess what. After all, hadn't she witnessed the beginnings of one of Azula's panic attacks last night? She had seen Sokka talking her down. The last time she and Mai had seen each other, she and Sokka were practically at each other's throats. She had to be wondering how they had become...whatever they were.

Mai had also been there for more than a few of her panic attacks, nightmares, and hallucinations. She had never been able to talk her down before, although she'd tried. Azula frowned at that. She hadn't thought much about those times, but Mai had tried to help her.

Like they were friends.

“So, you seem... More stable than the last time I saw you,” Mai said eventually, her voice still low as they picked their way through the rutted streets, their boots squishing in the muddy lanes. Carts were starting to move past them, laden with goods, grains, and produce.

“I wouldn't describe me as stable,” she said bitterly. “I've learned how to cope with it, as much as I can. It doesn't always work, but at least I don't think I was as bad as I was before.”

“Before Tazeo,” Mai said, and the sound of Sokka's fake name made her guts squirm. She didn't like to use the name. It reminded her of who Tazeo had been, and Sokka—her Sokka—was not Tazeo.

“Yeah, before Tazeo,” she said and then glanced at the taller woman with an aggravated sigh. “Just say what you want to say, Mai.”

“I'm not sure what I want to say,” Mai replied easily, tucking her hands into her sleeves, where Azula knew she would be fingering the catches on her wrist-sheathes. “Okay, yes I do. What exactly is going on between the two of you?”

“I don't know,” she said truthfully.

“Bullshit,” Mai snarked at her, making Azula's lips twitch. “I have never, _ever_ seen you look at anyone the way you look at him. And that...I don't know what that moment was last night, but that was... I thought you guys were make out right there. Are you sleeping with him?”

“That's complicated.”

“Uncomplicate it then!” Mai shot at her.

“You just want the juicy details.”

“ _Are_ there juicy details?”

Azula stopped at an intersection to let a procession of carts go past. “We're close, okay? Closer than we should be. Let's just leave it at that.”

“He's still with...you know, isn't he?” Mai said, dropping her voice and leaning toward her. She knew she didn't want to say Suki's name for fear of being overheard.

“Yes, he is,” she said bitterly, her jaw tightening.

“Is he cheating on her?”

She let out an aggravated groan from her throat and whirled on Mai. “We haven't had sex, if that's what you want to know so badly, okay? He's not cheating on her. Not... Not like that anyway.”

“Not like that?” Mai said slowly. “Then...what the fuck do you mean?”

Azula sighed and started across the intersection. “He thinks he's in love with me, all right? But he's wrong, or at least he doesn't love me more than he loves her, so it doesn't matter.”

“And how do you feel?”

“I don't feel anything.”

“Again...BULLSHIT,” Mai scoffed. “You're so in love with that man you might has well have his name tattooed on your ass right now.”

“Well you've certainly learned some crude language skulking around with these murdering types, haven't you?” Azula mused, because that was a lot easier than confronting the fact that Mai had been able to see right through her when it came to Sokka. Was she that transparent? Could everyone tell?

She thought of the looks of hatred that Rian had cast at Sokka, that jealous light in his eyes that had turned manic and possessive. And desperate.

Okay, maybe she was an open book when it came to her feelings for Sokka. If her heart wasn't breaking in two, she might have laughed.

She had always thought she was so good at keeping a poker face, even when she was losing it on the inside. She had cultivated a mask in her youth that few had been able to penetrate...but she had lost that mask a long time ago.

And when it came to Sokka...she was more open than she had ever been in her life. And far too vulnerable. He was a weakness for her...and she had far too many other weaknesses dragging her down. Her feelings for him were destroying her.

That was why she had tried to leave, and for every other reason she had given him.

“Classic deflection,” Mai mused, making her glare at her. The market loomed ahead, the stalls already open, glossy fruit and ripe vegetables piled high upon the tables. “You're in love with him. Don't bother lying.”

She was right. There was no point in lying about it. Mai saw right through her anyway.

“Fine. I love him. Are you happy?”

“Does he know you're in love with him?”

She stopped, her head hanging. “Just leave it, Mai. What either of us feels doesn't matter. He knows it too, even if he won't admit it.”

“Sounds like you're the one who won't admit anything,” Mai said delicately.

“Just drop it. As soon as this stupid shit is over and done with I'm leaving and I'm never coming back, so none of it matters!” she said hotly, her voice hissing. “I've gotten along in my life perfectly fine without love until now. Falling for him was a mistake. I'll get over it, and he'll... He'll get back to his life. He deserves happiness...and better than me.”

“Azula...” Mai said, her voice startled at her tone. Azula turned on her, and she saw the confusion and sadness in Mai's eyes.

“What?”

“I don't know...you just... You're not the girl you were back then, that's all.”

“No,” Azula said, her voice shaking. “That girl died a long time ago. I have to make peace with that. Somehow... And I don't think I ever want to be her again, Mai, even if I could be.”

She turned and walked into the marketplace, leaving Mai to stare after her. Azula was shaking inside, her hands clammy, sweat crawling down her back. She spotted the spy on the rooftops across the street again, but quickly looked away.

She hoped Sokka was okay, and that he was sending that letter to Suki right now. If not, all of this might be for nothing.

* * *

 

Sokka watched the messenger hawk wing its way through the skies, his letter tied securely to its leg. He hadn't been followed, so he doubted anyone would intercept the letter, unless they were intercepting all of Suki's mail into the palace, which seemed unlikely. Besides, he hadn't written anything that would tip anyone off. Maybe not even Suki...he hadn't even been able to say the word assassin, he just hoped she would take his vague hint.

He knew that Suki would protect Zuko no matter what. She was good at her job. She had stopped assassins before, including one a few years ago that had burned down one of Zuko's gardens. But that had been a lone crazy, someone who had been angry about taxes or something. He'd destroyed Zuko's topiary, but not much else, and Suki had apprehended him easily enough.

This was different. Whomever the Smoke Demons were sending after Zuko, either Rian or someone else, they would be elite, trained, dangerous. Suki's, Zuko's, and the lives of all of the Kyoshi Warriors—women he counted as friends—would be in danger.

He felt useless, knowing that the danger was out there, growing ever closer, and that he could do almost nothing to stop it. He needed to act. The letter was not enough.

He met Mai and Azula back at Lo and Li's house, and his heart thumped painfully in his chest when Azula's face lit up the moment he walked in the door. She shut down the expression a moment later, looking away from him.

“I don't think I was followed.”

“You weren't. Our little spy watched us buy fruit from a nearby rooftop,” Mai said with some satisfaction. “So what now?”

“We head to the Capitol and see if we can't find this assassin before its too late. And we'll meet with this Nobu guy. If the Smoke Demons wanted us dead, I think they would have done it already.”

“They might be biding their time,” Azula said darkly.

“They think you're loyal, right?” he said, turning to Mai.

“I certainly hope so,”Mai said, crossing her arms over her chest. “If not, they've let me get away with killing a lot of their people.”

“Then there's no reason for us to think that they think we've turned on them. We're going to play this like the good, loyal Demons we are. We're going to go to Nobu, like we've been ordered. We're going to have to answer for Rinchaka Falls,” he said heavily, and glanced at Azula, whose face shut down instantly. She turned away, staring out the big balcony doors at the ocean rolling into the rocks below them. Her shoulders were stiff, her skin paling. “We'll just tell them the truth.”

“I wouldn't start with 'yeah, we killed a fellow Smoke Demon',” Mai said. “I don't think they'll like that.”

“Maybe not, but he nearly got us killed...and that's a failure. The price for failure in the Smoke Demons is death, remember? We were just doing our duty,” Sokka said grimly. “Or rather, I was.”

“A lot can go wrong here, Sokka. If they're sending an assassin after Zuko, then... Then their plans for Azula have changed. And I don't trust that.”

“Me neither, but we don't have much of a choice,” Sokka said and then turned to Azula. “I can understand if you want to leave now. Azula, you've done your part. We know they don't plan to put you on the throne, that they may try to kill you just to get rid of you... If you want to leave, this would be the time.”

“And if you showed up without me?” she said tightly. “What would happen to you?”

“They're going to try to kill me either way, Azula. I know what I'm in for.”

“I'm not leaving you. Not now.”

They stared at one another for a long moment and so much passed between them. He felt pain in limbs, spidering across his torso and into his aching, betraying heart.

“Okay,” he said softly, nodding. “Let's get ready to leave. We should be in the Capitol by this afternoon.”

“Let's get some breakfast first,” Mai said. “I haven't eat in a while and I haven't slept in two days. I can sleep on the ferry, but I need food.”

Sokka hesitated, and then realized that he was starving too. And who knew when his next meal would be? He didn't like for Azula to skip meals either, and she would, if given half an opportunity. He nodded and licked his lips. “Fine. I'm gonna go pack up. I'll be right back down.”

He went upstairs, feeling every step in his bones. His body felt heavy, or maybe it was just the weight he was feeling on his shoulders, oppressive and leaden. What he wanted most was to sleep, but he knew he wasn't going to get any today, maybe not even tonight.

If he got lucky, maybe he'd get a nap on the ferry.

He packed up his things, and glanced at the bed he and Azula had been sleeping in for the past couple of weeks. He thought of the way her skin glowed in the moonlight, of how soft and warm she was, cradled against him, the way she clutched him tighter when one of her nightmares started, the sleepy look in her eyes when he calmed the screams from her with just a touch of his hand.

A lump formed in his throat.

He was losing her.

 _I never had her,_ he thought sadly. _And maybe I never will._

He felt miserable, and he was pretty sure he deserved his misery. He had fallen in love with another woman, of that he had no doubt, but what exactly was he supposed to do about that? Could he do anything about it, other than throw himself at Suki's feet and beg for forgiveness? Or throw himself at Azula's feet and beg for...what? For her to love him back, when she had told him time and again that she couldn't, or maybe wouldn't.

He wasn't sure he believed her. Maybe he just didn't want to.

Things would be easier if he could just talk to Suki. He had a feeling she would make up her mind about their relationship for him the moment he told her that he had cheated on her with Azula. He wouldn't lie to her about it, of that he was certain.

She'd break up with him. He knew it. And maybe she was with Zuko, so it wouldn't bother her at all. But maybe it would break her heart. Maybe both things were true. Maybe she was as confused as he was.

Maybe nothing mattered at all. Maybe he was going to be killed at moment, still wearing the skin of a man he detested.

He chased away his black thoughts, and turned toward the door, but stopped, jumping as his frayed nerves jangled. Mai stood in the doorway, the expression on her face unreadable. He hadn't heard her coming, and that was a scary thing indeed, considering the hair trigger he had developed on his senses of the last ten months.

“Mai! You scared me!”

Mai's implacable look turned dark and murderous the next moment and for a split second, the thought that she had turned—that she had come to kill him—popped into his head. He reached for the sword at his hip automatically.

“If you break her fucking heart, I will break your fucking face,” Mai said in a monotone, although there was a snarl there, hidden somewhere beneath her glaring, dagger-like eyes.

He stared at her for a long moment. “It's not what you think...”

“It's exactly what I think, and we both know it. You took advantage of her.”

“I didn't!” he said, lifting his hands. “I swear! Nothing happened... Well...I mean, some things happened, but it was...it was both of us and... I have feelings for her, Mai.”

“She has feelings for you too. I don't think she's ever felt about anyone the way she feels about you, do you get that, Sokka?”

“I do.”

Mai jabbed one hand in the vague direction of the stairs, and the downstairs beyond, where Azula, presumably, was, just out of earshot. “That girl has been hurt and she doesn't need you to jerk her around.”

“I know that!” he hissed. “You think I don't know that? Trust me, I know everything. You think I'm not going out of my mind trying to make this right? I don't want to hurt her. I don't want to lose her either, but... There's Suki and... And things are fucked up and I have no idea what to do. I didn't mean to fall for her...I didn't! It just happened, Mai. She's...”

 _My Princess,_ he thought miserably, but he didn't say it out loud. He couldn't.

“Figure your shit out, Sokka. And if you don't tell Suki about this--”

“I'm going to tell her! I swear!”

“You'd better. I hope she dumps your ass! I can't believe you!” Mai hissed at him, her nostrils flaring.

“Like she'd have a lot of room to talk,” he said defensively, his face screwing up with anger. “Her and Zuko--”

“Those are stupid rumors and--”

“Oh, please, Mai! You and I both know how those two are with each other, better than anyone else, right? We're the ones who have stood back and watched those two for years, wondering if there's more to their relationship than friendship! Don't tell me when you broke up with Zuko the thought didn't enter your mind that they would get together eventually! That he'd realize he was in love with her, and she would too!”

Mai's face drained a little and she looked away from him.

“Okay... I did think that. When I broke up with him, I knew he'd be just fine because Suki was there. There's something between them, whether they even know it or not. But I also know those two pretty well. So long as you and Suki are together, Zuko wouldn't make a move on her. And she wouldn't cheat on you. I wish I could say the same for you, Sokka.”

He felt the sting of her anger all the more because he knew that it was true. Every word. He swallowed and looked away.

“You're right. I'm That Guy. I'm that fucking Guy and I am a complete and utter bastard.”

“So long as you know it,” Mai hurled at him and turned on her heel to walk away.

He called after her, “What should I do?”

She half-turned to face him, her face as stoney as before. “Make it right.”

“I don't know what the right thing to do is.”

She thought a moment and then licked her lips. “Follow your heart, I guess. That's the only thing you can do. Asshole.”

Yeah, I deserved that, Sokka thought, leaning against the doorway as she spun and stomped down the stairs. He watched her go, rubbing at the scar on his forehead, feeling a phantom ache in the months old wound.

Follow his heart?

His heart was as confused as the rest of him. He was well and truly fucked, and he only had himself to blame.


	39. Thirty-Eight

 

Sokka, Azula and Mai arrived at the Capitol at sunset. They'd spotted their tail at the ferry docks, lurking and watching as they set sail. Not too long after, a messenger hawk winged across the sky toward the Capitol. Sokka watched it disappear into the clear blue sky as the ferry chugged its way across the warm waters toward the Capitol. No doubt someone would be informed that they were on the move.

He couldn't help but wonder if his own messenger hawk had arrived safely at the palace. It wouldn't take very long for it to get there. He still felt like he should have taken the risk to tell Suki everything in the letter. He didn't want her unprepared for an attack.

But Suki was good at her job, and he had to put his faith in her skills, whether she knew the attack was coming or not. Hopefully when they got to the Capitol, they would be able to meet up with June, who might know the name of the assassin and where to find him before he struck.

There were a lot of mights and maybes and he hated waiting before he could act.

The ferry ride was uneventful. Mai fell asleep sitting up, her arms tucked into her sleeves, and her head lowered beneath her cloak. How she wasn't sweating to death, Sokka had no idea. Even with the sea winds, he felt uncomfortably hot. He suddenly missed the South Pole more than he ever had before.

Azula sat quietly up on one of the benches, her knees tucked to her chest, and her gaze far out to sea. Sokka didn't know what to say to her. There was so much between them, it seemed almost beyond words. Mai had told him to make things right, but he didn't know how.

What he needed most was to see Suki, to talk to her, and explain himself. He couldn't help but think that that would help him see things clearly. She deserved the truth too. And...he couldn't help but feel like he deserved the truth too, about her possible feelings for Zuko. The fact that Mai hadn't denied that she knew there was more between Zuko and Suki than just friendship had made him feel less defensive about his suspicions. He hadn't been making it up. He knew there was something between them, even if he didn't know exactly what.

He needed to confront her, and he had a feeling—if they weren't murdered on sight the moment they arrived in the Capitol—that a confrontation was inevitable. He couldn't make it right, he couldn't take back what he had done, but he was damned sure not going to hide it.

He'd face the consequences, whatever they were.

“We're being greeted,” Mai said when they pulled up to the docks at sunset. From here they could see the extinct volcano rising over the city. He couldn't see the palace from here, but he could make out the switchback path up the mountain.

“Smoke Demons?”

“At least six of them,” she said tightly. “Don't attack them unless they attack first.”

“Fine, take all of my fun,” Azula said as they disembarked the ship and stepped onto the docks. Almost immediately a black-clad woman stepped up, surveyed the three of them and then looked sharply at Mai. Sokka recognized June immediately; she hadn't changed a bit.

“You're late.”

“But not too late, I hope,” Mai said with force, her eyes flashing. June looked from Mai from to Azula, and then let her gaze wander over to him and linger appreciatively. No doubt she recognized him for who he really was. She looked impressed.

“Not as far as I know. Things are still progressing,” June said, and then jerked her dark head toward the road, where five more black-clad figures stood. He spotted the black flame tattoo of on several of them, proudly displayed. It made him sick. “Nobu ordered me to bring you to him.”

“And we're just supposed to go, like lambs to the slaughter?” Sokka said archly.

June's red lips twisted into a smirk, her kohl-lined eyes glittering with amusement. “If they wanted you dead, they would have ordered Mai to do it the moment we found you on Ember Island, so get untwist your panties.”

“What do they want with us?”

“It's not your place to question that,” June said and then gestured for them to follow her. Sokka glanced at Mai and Azula. Mai looked pleased, and a lot more at ease than before, but Azula was staring around, looking slightly panicky.

The docks were noisy and the city, even at sunset, was busy, loud and full of people. Sokka felt his guts tighten. They had spent so much time skirting around civilization, trying to stay hidden in between missions, that it was easy to forget how overwhelmed Azula could be in the hustle and bustle of a real city. It had been bad in villages, but cities, with their tight press of bodies, were a nightmare for her.

As they followed June and her entourage through the harbor city to who-knew-where, he stepped close to Azula and took her hand. She startled when he touched her, but after a moment's hesitation, she tightened her hand in his, still avoiding his gaze.

June led them to what was clearly one of the poorer neighborhoods in the city, full of dilapidated homes, and apartment blocks. They entered one of the apartment blocks that had been boarded up, and climbed the stairs to the top floor. June stopped at an apartment door, and as she lifted her hand to knock, Sokka saw that there was a black flame painted in the center of the door.

It didn't take long for the door to open, and a pair of suspicious eyes peered out at them.

“' _Where there's smoke?_ ”

“Seriously? Every time?” June mumbled and then sighed and said, “ _'There's fire.'_ ”

The door opened for them and they were lead into a mostly bare apartment, with sagging plaster walls and boarded up windows. There was a table in the center of the room, with maps and papers and scrolls spread across it. One wall was covered in every weapon imaginable, an arsenal for the Smoke Demon's most elite assassins.

Even though he and Azula had been in the terrorist cell for ten months, he couldn't help but feel like this was the first time he was really seeing the Smoke Demons for the first time. He had never been closer to the real power behind the cell than he was now.

And he still knew nothing.

“Welcome,” said the man who had been hunched over the table when they'd entered. He lifted his head and peered at them appraisingly. He was as slight and slender as a sword, but there was a ranginess about him that told Sokka that this man, whomever he was, was not only a capable fighter, but probably a dangerous killer. His brown eyes were keen and clever, his lips ruby red, almost feminine-looking.

“Nobu, I'd like you meet Princess Azula and her...uh, and Tazeo,” Mai said, gesturing to them in turn. Nobu studied them for a long moment, his head tilting back a little. Then he came over to Azula and reached for her hand, to bow over it.

She jerked her hand back and Sokka stepped forward menacingly. “Don't touch her.”

The tension in the room ramped up instantly. There were four other Smoke Demons the room, clad in black masks, and they tensed, looking at Nobu, waiting, hands on their weapons. Nobu's polite expression dropped into something icy instantly. He looked between them and his jaw twisted, his eyes narrowing.

Finally, he said, “I meant no disrespect. ”

He withdrew, walking over to the table and standing before it at military attention, his hands clasped behind his back, which was ramrod straight. Though everyone else in the room had taken their cues from Nobu, Sokka stood tensely in front of Azula, one hand on his weapon.

He couldn't help thinking that Nobu's actions had been deliberate. He'd wanted to see what Azula would do if he touched. And what _he_ would do.

“I'll be honest, I'm surprised you answered our summons. After what happened in Rinchaka Falls--” Nobu said and then stopped, eyes narrowing on Azula's reaction to the name. She paled a little, her lips thinning out, eyes widening. Sokka wanted to touch her, but he didn't.

“What happened in Rinchaka Falls was not our fault,” Sokka said quickly. “The Fire Bug arrived a day earlier than scheduled and blew up the depot. We were doing reconnaissance and were nearly killed in the blast.”

“And so you slit his throat,” Nobu said dispassionately.

“I thought that he had obviously gone rogue and tried to kill us. We'd had a history, after all.”

“Oh yes, I'm well aware of the incidents at Black Rock and Lady Shura's estate,” Nobu said, shuffling through some notes. “The Fire Bug was a mad and unstable. It's clear that he and Baz hatched a plan to kill you, Princess Azula. You can hardly be punished for protecting yourself.”

“And what has become of Baz?” Sokka asked, even though he already knew.

“We're searching for him as we speak,” Nobu said easily. “He will be dealt with. As will you be. The two of you disappeared, disobeying direct orders to go to your safe house in the event that something went wrong and--”

“The safe house was compromised,” Azula said.

“You were ordered to return to your last safe house, then. Not disappear into the void, to be hunted down like animals.”

Sokka stepped forward. “We've had failures before--”

“Kato Sanyi,” Nobu said grimly. “Yes, I'm aware.”

“We were afraid that we'd be killed for what happened in Rinchaka Falls, and as that was not our fault, we were disinclined to sit there and wait to be murdered for a failure that had nothing to do with us. We're loyal to the cause, but we're not idiots.”

Nobu's head tilted back again, and he studied them down his short, button-like nose, his red lips pursed in thought. “No, I suppose you're not, but that leaves me to wonder a few things.”

“Like what?” Sokka growled. He didn't like this man, and his knowing eyes.

“How loyal you _really_ are,” Nobu said savagely. “Are you willing to risk your life for the cause?”

“Yes,” Sokka replied, because Nobu was looking at him, and not Azula. “I'll do anything necessary for the cause. Anything at all.”

Nobu leaned over the papers before him and shuffled through them for a long moment. “I suppose after the events of tonight, whatever the outcome, we may give you a chance to prove your loyalty, Tazeo.”

Sokka's heart leaped into his throat. The events of tonight? Nobu could only mean one thing by that comment. The assassination attempt on Zuko's life was happening tonight. Maybe even right now, and here they were, standing before this icy bastard, trying to prove they were loyal to a cause that made both of them sick to their stomachs.

“And what of my loyalty?” Azula said harshly, stepping forward. Nobu didn't look at her, but Sokka could sense his smile and it put his hackles up.

“Princess Azula, you and I both know that you're only here because you want your throne back. I'm sure you'd toss us all aside in order to get it, so pardon me if I don't think much of your supposed loyalty. I don't believe you have any honor to speak of, but that's hardly important at the moment. It's _Tazeo_ I'm concerned with, so just stand there and shut your mouth.”

“How dare you!” Azula snapped instantly, the insult more than she could bear. “You smug son of a--”

“Nobu!” Everyone in the room turned to face a man framed in the doorway of the room. His face was pinched white, and he was carrying a hastily written note in his fingers. “We have a problem.”

The man all but ran over to Nobu and thrust the paper at him, panting, sweat running down his face. Nobu looked annoyed at being interrupted, but then his jaw tightened, his eyebrow lifting a little.

“Well. That is...unfortunate, but not unforeseen.”

“What's wrong?” June asked as Nobu put the missive down and bent over it, palms flat on the table.

“We attempted to assassinate Fire Lord Zuko tonight. Our agent was killed in the fight. The Fire Lord survived, with only minor injuries, it seems. How... _disappointing._ ”

A knot inside Sokka's chest untwisted, and he nearly sighed in relief. Zuko had survived...but what about Suki? Was she alright? Were the rest of the Kyoshi Warriors okay? What had happened?

Azula spoke up, her eyes burning with hatred for the man who had insulted her just moments before. “You honestly thought you could kill my brother with one assassin? He's too well protected, _and_ he's a Firebending Master. If you're going to kill him, you need someone who can get close to him. To get him when his guard is down.”

“You mean yourself?” Nobu said archly.

“I was told in the beginning that that's what I was here for. To kill my brother when the time was right. I've been looking forward to it,” Azula lied smoothly, her voice full of passion. Sokka was slightly impressed. Azula had missed her calling as an actress. He supposed she got it from her mother.

He'd never say that to her face, though.

“I'm sure you have, Princess Azula, but if you kill your brother then your claim to the throne will be in jeopardy. You know that as well as I. And my superiors.”

“I can still get close to him.”

“And I can knife him in the back when he least expects it,” Sokka snarled. “Let us do this, Nobu. To prove our loyalty.”

Nobu looked at Azula, then glanced at Sokka, his expression mild and unreadable. It put Sokka's back up again; this man was uncanny. There was danger oozing from every movement he made. No wonder Mai hadn't wanted to go against him in a fight. Sokka had a feeling that Nobu could, and would, kill at a moment's notice and with no hesitation.

“My superiors were prepared for Han-Jin's failure. They have another plan in place, the original plan. To kill Zuko in front of his entire court at this ball he's throwing in week's time. They want his death public. So that there will never be rumors of him surviving, nor any suspicions about who committed the terrible act. The assassin will be on a suicide mission. He will not survive his attempt. Even if he kills the Fire Lord, he will die in prison, or at the hands of Zuko's guards.”

“You mean me,” Sokka said.

“Yes, Tazeo. I mean you,” Nobu said, peering at him with satisfaction in his eyes. “You said you were loyal...this is how you prove it.”

“If I refuse?” Sokka said. The next moment an arm wrapped around his throat and he felt a knife tip dig into his back. He hitched in a breath as Azula cried out, flames flaring to life in her hands.

“If you refuse, I'll dig your heart out with my knife,” Rian snarled in Sokka's ear. “Put out the flames, my Princess, or I'll kill him right now.”

He jabbed the knife into Sokka's back again, piercing through Sokka's leather vest and biting into his skin. Sokka had no doubt that he meant it. He had to give Rian credit. He was good. He hadn't realized that he was one of the masked Demons, or that he had moved up behind him while they'd been speaking to Nobu. He had just been biding his time.

“Let him go, Rian!” Azula said, her voice shaking with rage and fear. She met Sokka's gaze, her face pale and her eyes huge in the light of her fire. “Please!”

Sokka glanced at Mai and June, who had whipped around, pulling weapons when they'd seen Rian grab Sokka. June looked wary, but Mai's eyes were narrowed, three red stilettos in her hands. Sokka knew how good her aim was; there was no doubt in his mind that Mai could end Rian, right here, right now, if he signaled her to.

Oh, how he wanted her to do it, but he knew that would be suicide. There would be a fight, if he did. And he didn't know if he could protect Azula from Nobu, if it came down to it.

“Azula, back off,” Sokka snapped at her as Rian dug the knife into his back. “Rian, it's good to see you again. I'm sure you're pissed off that they didn't send you to kill the Usurper, huh?”

“They were going to send me, but I convinced them to send another assassin in my place.”

“Too cowardly to do the job, huh? What a shock,” Sokka shot at him, which wasn't his smartest moment. Rian jabbed the knife into him, just enough that he knew he would have a mark. Pain spidered through his back, exploding like a white-hot burn. He screwed up his face to keep from crying out.

“There was another job I wanted more,” Rian said with a snarl. It wasn't hard to guess what Rian wanted even more than Zuko's death.

“Release him,” Nobu said, almost boredly. Rian shoved him away, leaving Sokka to stumble, blood running down his back. Azula went for Rian immediately, but Sokka caught her hand, stopping her.

“No,” he said, meeting her eyes. Azula's rage and pain at seeing Rian again was clear in her tortured gaze. “I'm fine.”

Nobu ignored them, coming around the table and perching on the edge of it. “Rian, must you be so dramatic? We're all on the same side here. Or so I assume.”

“I wouldn't trust Rian if I were you,” Sokka growled. “He only wants one thing and he'll disobey orders to get it.”

“Are you still angry I tried to have her kill you?”

“Are you still angry about having a small pecker?”

June snorted at that, while Nobu's eyes flashed.

“Children!” Nobu snapped, making them both turn toward him again. “Enough of this. Rian, you're out of line. You have your orders, do you not?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then leave.”

Rian's face hardened and he cast a murderous glare at Sokka, then turned his gaze on Azula. He seemed to ignore the look of hatred in her eyes, and the fire burning above her fingers. The look he gave her covetous, greedy and sickening.

 _I'm gonna kill that fucking bastard, one way or another,_ Sokka thought. Rian slunk out of the room, but Azula didn't relax an inch. She looked like she was two seconds from losing it, the faintest tinge of panic in her eyes that he knew only too well.

He lifted his other hand and cupped her face. “Look at me.”

She did, lifting her eyes to his. It was like the rest of the world melted away all of a sudden and it was just the two of them, alone on their island. “I know what's real.”

“I know you do. Don't worry about him.”

“I'm not. I'm worried about you.”

“I want to do this,” he said fiercely. “I want to kill your bastard brother for you, my Princess. I'm prepared to give my life if that means you will take back the throne that has always rightfully been yours. We have worked so hard...let me do this, Azula.”

She blinked, as if realizing that she had to play along, that it was all part of the plan. She glanced at Nobu and lifted her chin.

“I can get him close enough to Zuko to do the deed, even at this ball that he's throwing. I know that I can.”

“Won't they suspect you?” Nobu asked, brow lifting. “We don't want anyone to cast suspicions on you, now do we?”

“I'll play the stooge, a woman too in love to see that she's being used by an assassin just to get to her brother. When Zuko's gone, I'll play the grieving sister, the betrayed lover. I'll make them fall at my feet. When the throne is mine, I'll honor the Smoke Demons with riches beyond measure.”

“Of that, I have no doubt,” Nobu said. “The ball is in a week. Get close to him, kill him in front of everyone. Tazeo...if you fail to do the job, you will be killed. Either at your own hands or the hands of one of our agents in the palace. If you aren't killed by one of his bodyguards during the assassination attempt. Even if you survive the attempt, we will not come for you. You will not speak. If you give us up, we will send someone to kill you. Rian...perhaps...”

“I will not fail.”

“Yes, well...with his lover at his side, Fire Lord Zuko won't be an easy target, I assure you,” Nobu said, making Sokka's eyes narrow.

“Lover? I wasn't aware that the Usurper had a lover.”

Nobu's lips quirked. “You haven't heard the rumors?”

“Rumors, yes...but I didn't believe them,” he said carefully.

“Yes, well...” Nobu said, picking up the missive the messenger had brought. “It seems our assassin caught our beloved Fire Lord in bed with the Captain of his bodyguards. She was injured during the fight, but she survived. No doubt she'll be watching his back most carefully from now on. You may want to kill her first, if you can.”

Sokka could hear roaring in his ears, but he didn't know if it was his blood pressure ramping up or the fact that his mind was screaming.

Suki had been hurt.

Suki had been in bed with Zuko.

The rumors were true.

“I told you he was sleeping with her,” Mai snorted. “Why do you think I broke up with his sorry ass? I hope you kill them both.”

He hoped his alarm didn't show in his eyes when he looked at Mai. Had she meant that or was she just playing her part? Even if she hadn't meant it, he couldn't help thinking that he agreed with her. He was suddenly feeling pretty murderous toward Zuko. And he didn't even want to think about Suki.

“I'll make them both suffer until their last breath,” Sokka said, glancing at Azula, who was staring at the floor, her expression stormy.

Nobu's gaze was full of satisfaction. “Do not fail us.”

++++

“Where are you going?” Azula asked Mai as she started to leave the safe house the Smoke Demons had sent them to two days before. Mai pulled her cloak down and met her gaze unflinchingly.

“I have business, a few contacts that may have information about another agent in the palace. There's also a merchant who may have had contact with the leaders of this thing. I need to follow the leads. I'll contact you if I need to, but this may take a while.”

“You won't be around for the assassination attempt?”

“Perhaps not, but I will be in the city. Sokka's plan for the fake assassination is good...it's not perfect, but if you can get to Zuko and Suki like you plan, then you should be able to talk them into it. If he tells everyone at the ball that he'll give up information about the Smoke Demons, then I know they'll send the agent in the palace to kill him. It's the only way we're going to flush them out and we need to do that before we do anything else.”

Azula nodded. “You'll be careful out there?”

“They haven't suspected me yet,” Mai said by way of answer. “And you... You take care too, Azula. I...” But she stopped and glanced into the house. Sokka was upstairs, going over the plan again.

“Say what you want to say, Mai,” Azula said tiredly.

“I know how you feel about him, Azula...and I get it. I do. Just... Be careful. He's going to see her again, and... I don't want you to get hurt because he doesn't know what the hell he wants.”

“Who said I even wanted him?” she shot at her, bitterly.

“I say,” Mai said, and shook her dark head. “Just be careful. Don't get killed.”

“You either.”

Mai hesitated at the door and then surged forward, pulling her in for a hug that surprised both of them. They were not huggers. Ty Lee had always been the hugging type, and they had tolerated it because they'd loved Ty Lee.

As Mai pulled back, Azula felt a lump in her throat. She didn't know if she and Mai were friends, but she was close to one as she had ever had, and she had missed that. She had missed her. And Ty Lee, she realized. She had missed them both.

“See you around, Mai.”

“Goodbye, Azula.”

The door closed behind Mai, leaving Azula standing in front of the closed door with her hand over her mouth. She suddenly felt very alone, and she didn't like it. When she heard footsteps in the doorway, she turned toward them. Sokka hesitated in the doorway, staring at her silently.

“Mai left.”

“Yeah, she threatened me before she left.”

“Threatened you?”

“She told me she'd stick a dagger up my ass if I broke your heart. I think she meant it. She's kind of scary, you know,” Sokka said, but smile fell flat.

“She's a good friend, I guess. I don't have many of those.”

“You have me.”

“No, I don't,” she said, shaking her head. “And when this is over, I'm leaving. I meant that.”

“I know you did. I can't expect you to stay and I know I can't promise you anything, so I won't,” he said sadly.

“You're going to run straight back to her the minute we're in that palace, aren't you?” she said, although she wasn't angry. She was resigned. She always known this was how it would end.

“I need to talk to her. I need some answers...and I need to tell her. I owe her that. I don't know what's going to happen. Or how I'm going to feel seeing her again, but... I need to see her, I do,” Sokka said, starting toward her.

“Well, she's obviously moved on, so don't expect much of a passionate reunion,” she snapped. Oh, _there_ was her anger. It sizzled through her like lightning.

“Azula...”

“We need to go over the plan again, so--” she started, trying to change the subject, but he caught her hand, pulling it to his chest, right over his heart. She looked up into his eyes, the gesture automatic as the feel of his heartbeat pounded beneath her palm.

“My princess,” Sokka whispered as his heartbeat steadied her racing nerves, calmed the anger in her, and made her focus, grounding her. She was real. This was real. Her love for him was real, and it always would be, no matter what happened. All of the pain and suffering, the guilt, the nightmares, the memories of what had been done to her in the Green Heart, of what she had done in revenge, in her agony...all of it fell away.

There was just the two of them. Alone on the island of her fantasy. No one could touch them there. No one could touch the trust and love they had forged between them over the past ten months, when they'd had nothing but each other. When they had reached out and found something in each other that they could never have anticipated.

When he had sparked a bonfire in the heart she was sure was broken beyond repair, and helped her to find herself through strength of his love for her. For that, she would love him forever, even if he broke her heart. Even if she never saw him again.

“I'm not your Princess, Sokka. I never was,” she lied, hoping that he believed her. Hoping that she would believe it, too. But it was a lie. She was his, utterly his.

She pulled away, gently drawing her hand back. Sokka didn't say anything. He didn't stop her. He let her walk away, but she felt his burning eyes on her, felt the phantom of his heartbeat beneath her palm.

This would all be over soon, and if they survived it, she would leave him. She had to find her peace, whatever that meant, and she had to do it on her own.

It would hurt. But she would survive. She had survived worse, and she would survive this.

And he would be hers, always.

And never.

 


	40. Epilogue

**Epilogue:**

_One Week Later_

Pain seared through Rian's face as Lady Shura ran her claws across his cheek. Her face was purple with rage, her teeth bared. “THIS IS YOUR FAULT!”

“My fault?! It was that traitor Tazeo!”

She slapped him, and his head reeled backward. He landed at her feet, blood in his mouth. His own rage flared and he reached for the dagger at his belt, but Li-Shang, Jr., Shura's youngest son, stepped on his fingers and ripped the dagger away from him.

“Should I kill him, Mommy?”

“No,” Shura said, holding up her red-tipped fingers. “Let him up.”

Li-Shang ground his heel into Rian's fingers and then stepped away from him, leaving Rian to sit up on his hands and knees before her. She paced back and forth in front of him, her heels clacking. She looked angry, too angry to breathe.

“ _You_ were supposed to kill Zuko and his whore, but I let you convince me to send Han-Jin instead, against my better judgment! I know your _father_ was behind that decision. I know you're nothing but his puppet.”

Rian lifted his chin. “Then why did you go along with it?” She hesitated and he laughed. “Because you know how powerful my father is, and if he opposed you, your little coup would fall apart at the seams, Shura.”

“He's not as powerful as he thinks he is.”

“Yes, he is. That's why you tried to recruit him. And why you didn't kill him when he refused you.”

“He wasn't worth the trouble.”

“You keep telling yourself that,” Rian laughed. “I won't deny that my father ordered me not to kill Zuko, but I want that Usurper dead. So I convinced you to send Han-Jin instead. I won't go against my father, I'm not stupid, but I would never stop _you_ from trying to kill Zuko yourself.”

“I know you're not loyal to me, though. I've always known whom you report to, Rian. You think I don't know he's sitting back, watching me, waiting for me to fail? That Osamu doesn't report to him too, the slimy little bastard? That Nobu isn't my man, but his? Do you all take me for a fool? I know everything!”

“You didn't know that Azula and Tazeo were traitors, even though I tried to warn you.”

She slapped him again, and his head reeled back with a snap just as the door opened and Kang walked in. Shura's eldest glared at Rian and then came over his mother, who was examining the state of her nails.

“We have reports of the airship heading southeast,” Kang said by way of greeting. Shura nodded.

“And my pet Kyoshi Warrior?”

“The message has been sent. Osamu will pay for his failure to kill Tazeo.”

“Good. Have her mother killed, will you? I don't think we'll be needing her any longer, not when I get through with that painted up bitch.”

Kang nodded and left, leaving Shura to pace in front of Rian.

“Things are unraveling, Shura,” Rian said, wiping the blood from his lips with aching, bruised fingers.

Shura's look was amused. “I have planned for every eventuality, Rian. This was always a possibility. I have plans you wouldn't believe. My coup hasn't failed at all. Your father thinks I'm weak...worthless... But I'll show you all. Even your father.”

“He hates Zuko as much as you do, you know.

“I know he does, which is why I'm curious to know why he would protect him.”

“Blame my sister for that one. She's got her sights set on Zuko, and my father wrapped around her finger,” Rian said with a laugh in his voice and then braced himself for the slap that rang across his face. He teetered on his knees as his eyes watered. Shura paced in front of him again.

“Because of you, your father, that worthless shit of an assassin, Osamu, that bitch Mai, your precious pure princess, and her fucking lover my plans to have to change! AGAIN!”

Shura picked up a vase and smashed it on the floor. Shards explode and slid across the terrazzo, landing against his knees. She stared at the mess, in a rage for a moment. She shook her arms a little, waving cool air at her face before she smoothed her hair down, and then delicately wiped at the smudged lipstick on the corners of her lips with the tip of her pink finger.

She composed herself and looked Rian in the face, smiling. Her voice syrupy sweet as she said through her teeth, “My Irohkins just disappeared on an airship with that traitor of a princess of yours. Now, I can't marry him if he's not _here,_ so I need _you_ to go get him. Follow him. Kill Tazeo.”

“You don't trust me, why not send one of your sons?”

“Because I don't care if you die, Rian, and I know you would do anything to get your Azula.”

“If I do this, what happens to her?”

“I'm going to have her disinherited and banished by Zuko himself right before I FUCKING RIP HIS FUCKING HEART OUT, so as far as I'm concerned, she's yours, Rian. Can your father give you that? Can he give you a princess, Rian? Because I can. Just kill that fucking traitor who cost me Osamu. Can you do that?”

Rian smiled at her through bloody lips. “I can.”

“Bring Iroh back and she's yours. And when this all over, when Iroh is mine. When the throne is mine...perhaps we'll give your father what he wants? His son...married to Princess Azula of the Fire Nation. His daughter married to one of my sons, perhaps? They will be Princes, will they not? Our two families will rule this fucking Nation. I'll see to it.”

Rian nodded and climbed to his feet. “I'll see that its done, Lady Shura.”

“Please. Call me _Fire_ Lady Shura. By the time you return with my groom, the Fire Nation will be mine.”

 _And Azula will be mine and Tazeo will be dead,_ Rian thought, and smiled.

**END**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that's the end of Bonfire Heart! BUT not the end of the Smoke Demons series. Stay tuned for “The Space Between”, which is the story of what happens to Sokka & Azula after the events of “Addicted to Love”. It will be about eight chapters long, so don't miss it. I hope to have it out, in full, within the next couple of weeks.
> 
> I'm also working on an as-yet-untitled multi-chaptered story that will conclude the Smoke Demons series, and will be about Zuko and Suki's wedding....and it will be Sokka/Azula-centric is as well. And it'll answer who Rian's father is...cuz whaaaaat was up that, am I right? Haha I'll be writing that beast at some point in November...I hope. I promise not to let it sit for three freakin' years this time.
> 
> Which brings me to thanking you guys for sticking with this story for so long and prodding me every now and then for an update. I was trying to work on it, but it never seemed like the right time. [insert THE STARS ARE NOT IN POSITION FOR THIS TRIBUTE.gif haha]
> 
> However, I worked on this fic for so long in my head that when I actually sat down to write the bulk of it a month and a half ago, it was like opening a floodgate, so I'm kind of glad I let the story stew. Most of the chapters were written so fast it was like I was possessed. (Except chapter 24...that one was a pain in the ass! I did 4 versions, I swear to God.)
> 
> ANYWAY, thank you all for reading and reviewing. I suck at replying to reviews (I never know what to say other than THANK YOU!!!), but I read every single one and squeal. It makes my damned day and it makes me want to write faster!
> 
> THANK YOU FOR READING! You guys rock!


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